Lady and King
by Dude from Blackhand
Summary: A mysterious Lady enters Varian Wrynn's court with her own secret agenda... and becomes involved in an intrigue and adventure she could not have expected.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Lady and King

Pairing: Sylvanas Windrunner/Varian Wrynn (and/or variations thereof)

Author: Dude from Blackhand

Warnings: For "mature" readers only. I'm not kidding. Hit the back button if you're underage.

Disclaimer: The world is not mine, the characters are not mine, I'm not making money off them, so please don't sue me, bro.

Notes: So apparently no one really pays attention to the ratings rules, lmao. So here it is—the entire porny chapters.

XXX

Chapter One

Western Plaguelands

From the personal journal of Lieutenant Hague of the Argent Crusade.

Day 23 of—

Once the unusually violent storms that besieged us had past my men and I journeyed far beyond Light's Hope to take stock of the Plaguelands. On the rocks bordering the Western lands we spied the ruined carcass of a small ship—a pleasure craft bearing the colors of Stormwind.

Immediately we sought to determine if there were survivors. And if not, to bury the dead… if the corpses had not already been cannibalized by the wildlife, the Scourge or the damned Forsaken for their vile concoctions.

It was a small yacht, and clearly did not have many passengers. We saw a handful of human bodies, mostly bloated and disfigured, but thankfully unravaged by unnatural creatures. We buried those as best we could, preserving some kind of token from the bodies to help identify the dead. The paladin Horace said a few words to ease their spirits to the afterlife.

From the boat we salvaged as many serviceable materials as we could—supplies, as ever, remain scarce in these godforsaken lands.

It was then that I found her.

She was half buried in the wreckage, and was so still that at first I thought her one of the deceased. A young human woman, dressed in court finery with hair the color of ripe wheat and skin like fresh cream… and around her neck, a strange amulet, glowing softly.

I cried for the paladin, who immediately rushed to my side. We hurriedly freed her from the wreck and moved her to the beach where Horace began his magics.

"Is she alive?" I ask him. Always best to verify these things.

"Yes," Horace answered. "She is protected by a barrier, similar to a paladin's. It must emanate from the amulet, though I've never heard of such a thing—"

Suddenly, the woman's body flashes a brilliant white and the sound of breaking glass echoes in the air.

We all of us had taken defensive positions—you can never be too careful—but for nothing: when the light faded we found the amulet broken around the neck of a woman who was blinking up at us in seeming confusion.

She had blue eyes.

xxx

Day 25 of—

Her name is Lady Emma Grey. She was sent to the Night Elves by her father, Lord Carrow, to study.

"Though I must admit," she had said, frowning at my bleeding arm, "that I did not learn much of anything except perhaps that I am definitely no healer."

I laughed despite that the loss of blood was making me feel cotton headed. "Well my lady then it is indeed fortunate that your beauty could easily compensate such a lack of skills."

"Beauty without skill… what a useless creature this is," she murmured… no, I'm certain I am mis-remembering our conversation. I was in much pain and suffering quite a bit at the time.

She is gone now, whisked away to the capital and guarded by a small group of skilled adventurers promised to be rewarded accordingly by her father upon her safe return.

I must sound as a calf eyed youth, but I admit that I will miss the lady. She brought a different kind of light to these dark lands in the short time she was here. It is difficult to explain, and I am no poet. However, if the Lady Jaina is as the sun, then Lady Emma is the moon.

She had a dignified and haughty air about her, with a bearing that was almost… regal.

I pray that the Light watch over her, always.

XXX

Cathedral Square

Stormwind

Alliance Territory

_It was a damned bad night for a party_, Phineas Mayburry thought to himself as he and his wife alighted the steps to the fashionable Grey mansion in Cathedral Square. Around him thunder rumbled and rain poured still as relentless as it had the previous day.

"I still do not understand why we could not travel directly to court," his wife Constance complained. As she was wont to do. "My shoes will be ruined by the time we reach the ball at this rate."

Phineas bit back a sharp retort. He'd long since learned not to start arguments before parties as his wife could and would sulk all throughout the night… and for the next three days. "Grey asked for a favor, my dove, and it would not have been gentlemanly of me to refuse."

"Hmph."

They were quickly ushered into the house and out of the rain. A pretty serving girl took their cloaks. Phineas let his eyes travel along the lush lines of her uniform. He must remember to ask Grey where he bought his staff's livery, they were much more attractive that his own.

Turner, Grey's butler, stepped forward. "Lord Grey waits in the back parlor. This way sir, madam."

As always, Phineas found himself reluctantly envious of his friend's fortunes as they passed one richly appointed room after another. While Carrow Grey's blood might not be as blue—his great-grandfather was a _merchant_—as Phineas' own, there can be no denying Grey was as rich as the cursed Dragon Queen.

A footman flung open the parlor door as they approached.

"Phineas, my good man!" Grey bellowed in greeting, moving forward to clasp his hand and kiss his wife's. As usual he was dressed in the finest court fashions in the most garish colors imaginable. "And the lovely Constance. Thank you for making the extra trip tonight. I know it must be a damned nuisance because of the weather."

"Think nothing of it, Lord Grey," Constance trilled, smiling widely. Phineas resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "But we must ask what prompted you to ask this yet undisclosed favor of us. It all seems so mysterious."

"Please, sit. Cognac? I have some truly excellent Dalaran wine here."

After we'd dispensed with the pleasantries, Carrow sat down with his wine and said, somberly: "it concerns my daughter."

"Emma?" Phineas frowned. "Hasn't she just returned from studies abroad?"

"Yes, a mentorship with Priestess Leara in Darnassus."

Phineas made a reluctantly impressed noise and beside him Constance pasted a smile on her face. Priestess Leara was famously known for successfully polishing young noble ladies for their come outs. Almost all of her students eventually made good marriages. They wanted to send their eldest daughter to her next year, but could not quite afford tuition.

Perhaps this favor of Grey's could open the door to a loan. The gods knew the man could certainly afford it.

"Has something gone amiss? I have heard nothing but good things regarding the Priestess' tutelage."

Grey waved his hand, the gems in his rings flashing. The man looked more kin to a peacock than noble. "Emma completed her studies admirably. The mischief occurred after, during her journey back to the city. The storms swept my yacht off course. It was found wrecked among the rocks off of the Plaguelands."

"By the Light!" Phineas exclaimed.

"My word! Is the poor girl all right?" Constance cried.

"Miraculously, she survived the crash and was found by knights from the Argent Crusade. An enchanted amulet that I'd given her for her protection saved her from certain death."

"Thank heavens," Constance said, placing a hand on her bosom. "She has not suffered any trauma from her ordeal?"

Grey sighed. "While the amulet saved Emma from physical harm, my doctors have diagnosed her to have… selective amnesia." He paused. "Emma retains most of her knowledge, but she has forgotten many things, specifically those pertaining to Wrynn's court."

Constance wrinkled her brow. "Then, her studies with Priestess Leara…"

"Those she kept—in fact I could scarcely believe the improvement in her disposition and bearing at first. It is why I was not able to quickly realize something had gone awry; she hid it very well.

I'd asked for you to come here tonight because Emma will certainly need a… shall we say, 'guiding hand,' during her first forays back into court society after her sojourn among the Night Elves—and her accident." Grey turned his eyes on Constance. "Since she has no mother of her own since my wife's passing many years ago, I was hoping you might act as a patroness for her, Lady Mayburry."

"Oh, well…" Constance hedged, blinking. "I would of course be more than happy to be of any assistance, but my hands are full enough as it is with my own daughter's training for her come out next year."

"Ah yes, Prudence, I believe is her name is?" Grey smiled, and Phineas felt a chill across his shoulders. "Of course I understand that your time is very valuable. As such, it would be incredibly remiss of me not to offer suitable compensation. I have spoken with Priestess Leara and she has assured me that she has room for one more student in the coming months. In exchange for your assistance to my daughter in this matter, I would be more than happy to sponsor Prudence's own studies under the Priestess."

Phineas sucked in a breath. The offer was more than generous. He exchanged a look with his wife. "I say, that is very generous of you Grey. We couldn't possibly—"

"But I insist! You would be doing me an enormous favor, old friend."

Constance smiled. "In that case, we accept."

"Wonderful!" Grey said, clapping his hands together. "I'll have Emma come down and we shall all go to the ball together. Oh, and I'm sure I need not remind you to keep this all confidential, hmm?"

"Of course," Constance stuttered, "but Lord Grey… you mean to bring Emma to the ball? Tonight?"

Phineas frowned. "Yes Grey, isn't that a bit too fast? Especially if the girl is just recovering from that kind of ordeal?'

Grey waved away their concerns and tugged on the bell pull. Turner immediately entered the room. "Have Emma come down. And ready the horses, we shall be departing for the castle shortly." Turner bowed and left.

"I understand your concerns but I'm afraid I just can't wait. I'd already accepted the invitation tonight, and Lady Carstairs sent me a note specifically inquiring about Emma's person. She would be sure to make much to-do if Emma doesn't attend."

Phineas winced. Lady Carstairs was one of the most influential ladies in court… and had been angling for her daughter to win that most coveted prize: Queen Consort to the King.

Every new debutante inevitably came under her gimlet gaze, and, if she found the poor girl to be either wanting or a serious competitor to her own daughter—she would crush them. More than one debutante's matrimonial prospects had been dashed into the proverbial stones under Lady Carstair's elegant heel.

The best advise mothers gave their daughters upon first meeting Lady Carstairs is to 'not stand out.'

However, Phineas thought it wouldn't be much of a problem for Emma Grey. If he remembered the chit correctly—and he did—she was certainly attractive enough but largely unremarkable and empty headed. He glanced at his wife. It shouldn't take much effort to keep the girl from committing any kind of social faux pas tonight.

He sat back and sipped his wine. The night, despite the foul weather, was certainly turning in his favor.

And then Lady Emma Grey entered the room.

Phineas was not aware he had stood up until he found himself lightly pressing his lips to delicate fingertips. He stepped back, reluctantly, and allowed her father to guide them to the waiting carriage. He did not, could not, take his eyes off of the young lady.

The months among the Night Elves seemed to have completely transformed her from a daisy—pretty but common—into some kind of exotic night blooming orchid. She said not four words to them besides the usual greetings and yet Phineas could not remember the last woman who had enchanted him so.

Her eyes were a clear, deep blue that almost glowed from a pale, flawless face. Her flaxen hair was swept up into a romantic chignon, small sapphires twinkling in their curls. A smooth, swanlike neck inevitably drew a man's eye to the generous curves of her breasts, alluringly on display by the fashionably low décolletage of an evening gown the color of the sky on a clear, summer's day.

She was almost unbearably lovely, and, he realized with a start as their party stepped down from the carriage and into the castle, would certainly be seen as a threat by the dreaded Lady Carstairs.

He chanced another glance at her cleavage. Poor girl, he thought, and hoped that perhaps he could place himself in a position to console her once she suffered from Lady Carstairs' put downs. Young, naive misses were so delightfully easy to upset—and seduce.

xxx

Stormwind Castle

_If the moronic human did not stop slavering over my breasts like a dog after a piece of meat,_ Sylvanas Windrunner thought to herself, I will rip out his spleen and feed it to him—slowly.

Although technically they were Emma Grey's breasts. It mattered not, however, as the human girl certainly had no need of this body now.

When her scouts had found the wrecked ship and brought the noble girl sleeping inside the protective barrier to Undercity, at first Sylvanas could not be bothered with such trifling matters as a prisoner. She'd ordered the girl's body be sent to Apothecary Faranell—he could always use some fresh ingredients.

However, upon breaking the barrier it was discovered that the girl—weak willed as she undoubtedly was—had fallen into a coma because of her ordeal. While her body remained perfect and uninjured, her mind, her consciousness, had fled. Sylvanas had ascertained this for herself.

Immediately she realized the weapon that had unwittingly fallen into her lap. A 'live' _human noble_ with no mind would be laughably simple to possess fully and absolutely. In this silly human body Sylvanas saw a path for her to regain standing in the Warchief's eyes after the unfortunate business with that traitor Varimathras.

The perfect spy.

A focusing gemstone was made and after Sylvanas performed the initial possession, she swallowed it, feeling it fuse inside the body, and providing her a way to break and regain her control over it across large stretches of land. She could possess this body while 'remaining' in Undercity… or anywhere in the Eastern Kingdoms, for that matter.

There were enough residual memories left inside the girl's brain for Sylvanas to effectively impersonate her, but apparently, not enough to fool her father that nothing was amiss.

Selective amnesia, indeed.

It was disgustingly easy to infiltrate the capital when one has the perfect, impenetrable disguise. While Emma Grey's father was, unfortunately, a silly noble with no business in war, Sylvanas had already managed to learn the army's training schedules and approximate number. Gossip had been a surprisingly good source of war news… humans—and especially human adventurers—were ridiculously easy to induce to talk and brag, when given the incentive of a pretty young noblewoman with an appreciative ear and a deep décolletage.

Give them the slightest glance at a puckered pink nipple and they all fall ass over cock in their haste to tell you all their secrets.

Pathetic.

Sylvanas smiled charmingly at the majordomo and watched as the severe man almost stuttered as he announced their names.

Over two hundred pairs of eyes swung to them and Sylvanas automatically fell back on her court training from ages ago. She, along with Alleria and Vereesa, had always been the toast of any ball, born with the inherent ability to command men and women's attention and interest effortlessly. Her sisters had been more sweet in their charms though. Sylvanas never had any doubt as to what went on in behind people's lascivious eyes.

She had not been to a ball since she'd become a banshee… she had almost forgotten how much other people's lust affected her, when she let it. As she began circulating around the room on the arm of her 'father,' she allowed her body to react as it wanted: she felt her nipples tighten under her bodice, her nostrils flaring as she scented the pheromones in the air mingling with various perfumes, and under her skirts her quim fluttered and grew damp.

How delicious. Perhaps she should find a convenient cock to suck tonight, or ride. She had not had a chance for play since that Alliance prisoner in Northrend. The dwarf had had a remarkably skilled tongue and a beard that scratched her thighs wonderfully. She had let him die with a smile on his face; after all, service like that deserved a reward.

She smiled at a group of men as she passed and felt their collective gaze settle on her breasts and the sway of her hips.

Yes, she thought as her mouth watered and her thighs became wet, a cock would be lovely. Perhaps someone from SI:7, or a high ranking noble or priest, someone with valuable information they could be persuaded to part with through a good fuck.

Idly, Sylvanas wondered if the body she was currently inhabiting was a virgin.

"Emma, my dear," Grey said, bringing Sylvanas back from her musing, "I'm sure you remember Lady Carstairs."

"Lady," Sylvanas curtsied. She flicked her eyes to the pinched looking matron. Her mind immediately catalogued the pertinent details: cunning and ruthless with a large amount of ambition—but no interest in war; likely has a daughter she's hoping to marry off well above her station.

An idiot worth less than cannon fodder.

"Young Emma, my goodness how much you've grown!" Lady Carstairs exclaimed, giving a fake, sharp laugh. "I see that your holiday in Darnassus has served you well."

Silly noble women and their silly games. Do you not know I can cut you down where you stand like so much chaff? Sylvanas quirked her lips in a small smile, and watched as the lady's mouth pinched further in annoyance. "Indeed my holiday was quite pleasant. And how is your daughter? Well, I hope?"

Grey's arm tensed under her fingers. Ah, she was not supposed to know Carstairs had a daughter. Oh well.

Carstairs waved her hand in studied disregard. "Oh, last I saw of Tiffany she was taking a stroll around the room with King Wrynn."

Sylvanas did not laugh but did allow her smile to show some teeth. 'Tiffany' was it? How obvious, and amusing. However, it was enough for her to decide not to be caught near Lady Carstairs or her progeny as much as possible. While it was unlikely for her deception to be discovered, she did not want to risk exposure by being near Wrynn or any of his lieutenants skilled in magic. Especially not Proudmoore or Fordring. There was a chance they might sense the possession, after all. And it would be a shame to be forced to abandon this body before she was able to uncover any information of true value.

"And here they are!" The matron smiled widely over their shoulders and Sylvanas quickly schooled her face into empty politeness with a touch of awe—she would be meeting her 'king,' after all. Wrynn, along with a vapid looking young woman, came upon them.

The men bowed low and Sylvanas and the women curtsied.

"Your daughter, Lady Carstairs," Wrynn intoned, his normally booming voice pitched low and carrying a hint of barely suppressed impatience, much to Sylvanas' amusement. It appeared the king did not much care for parties. Or clinging women, she thought as she hid a smile and kept her eyes cast low.

The Carstairs women busied themselves fawning over Wrynn. Sylvanas glanced at her 'father' and the Mayburrys and noted that they were not inclined to present her to the king, at least for now. Perfect.

Wrynn nodded curtly, his eyes sweeping across their party cursorily. He had just turned on his heel when Sylvanas saw him take a deep breath, then another, his eyes narrowing in consideration.

Damn.

While she had enough control over this body to curtail her arousal as soon as Wrynn approached, she could do nothing about the residual traces already clinging to it as a result of her earlier indulgence. Most men could not sense it, but skilled warriors, as a result of the necessity to develop their senses for battle—like animals—could smell it: a woman's readiness to be fucked.

Slowly but surely she felt Wrynn's heavy gaze fall on the top of her bowed head.

"Lord Grey, is it not?" Wrynn said, not taking his eyes from her. "And who is this?"

Damn and damn again. Sylvanas had hoped Wrynn would be too much of a gentleman and politely ignore her. Trust the human to act the barbarian in this.

Grey cleared his throat. "Your Majesty, may I present my daughter, Emma."

"Lady Emma," Wrynn murmured and bent over her hand as though he was a common courtier and not King of Stormwind.

Sylvanas did not gasp as his large and callused fingers cradled hers, but it was a near thing. Apparently she did not have as much control over this body as she thought, for her quim tightened convulsively at his touch and—as she curtsied low and he swiped his rough thumb along the underside of her wrist—her clit began to pulse and ache.

The cursed human was expelling pheromones like a siege engine, all blunt force and no finesse. It was a pity Sylvanas had always preferred rough play.

"Sire," she replied quietly and rose, finally tilting her face to meet his eyes.

And yes, there it was: a man's smug knowledge of a woman's arousal, the answering heat in his eyes. Hubris would always convince him that he was the cause of her discomfort—though in this case it was largely true.

"How charming," Wrynn said with a smile, "and where have you been hiding her, Grey?"

It was impolitic for Wrynn to flirt outrageously like this with a nobleman's daughter, but apparently the king thought boredom a more dangerous enemy than court gossip. Sylvanas could not help but be amused.

Wrynn had not let go of her hand and seemed disinclined to. Sylvanas, sensing unwanted attention beginning to fall on their little tableau, smoothly let go of Grey's arm and shifted so she stood side by side with Wrynn—a less socially awkward position for them all. Wrynn shifted to accommodate her and Sylvanas took his arm.

"She has been studying in Darnassus, Sire, and is recently returned." Sylvanas could tell that Grey was confused but pleased by the king's inexplicable interest in his daughter. His eyes kept moving from Wrynn to her, as though taking in a scene at a play.

"Interesting," Wrynn said mildly, "I have not had a chance to visit our Night Elf allies for quite some time. Take a stroll with me, Lady Emma, I would like to hear what news Darnassus brings."

Sylvanas smiled at them and almost smirked at the shocked expressions on the Carstairs' faces. She allowed herself to be led away by the leader of the Alliance, satisfied that there was no one who could unmask her hanging about.

They did not speak as they slowly took a turn around the room, and instead they let the tension between their bodies wind tighter and tighter. Sylvanas decided to play the game, allowing Wrynn to take the lead, and let his arousal feed her own. She knew he could sense it; he would occasionally take deep breaths, as if savoring the scent of her growing wetter between her legs.

His arm under her fingers was hard as rock and felt wonderful to caress, and, in one instance, scratch deeply and slowly with the nail of her thumb. Wrynn actually almost stumbled when she did it. Sylvanas smiled and wondered if he would growl state secrets into her ear if she would let him plunge his tongue between her labia, or suck on her clit as she rode his face. Or perhaps he would prefer to fuck her with his cock, from behind or in front, while fondling her breasts.

Or—and here Sylvanas slanted a sly look at Wrynn and caught him staring at her in amused disbelief and reluctant admiration, as though he could read her mind and see her fantasies—he would like to fuck her ass while his large fingers became soaked playing with her quim and clit.

"Yes, Sire?" she asked, keeping her voice pleasantly neutral, as if she was inquiring about the weather.

Wrynn blinked and then quickly threw back his head in a sharp bark of laughter. "You are," he began, then paused, looking around them. Smoothly and discreetly he led them to a less populated area in the ballroom, partially hidden by shifting shadows where the chandeliers did not reach. "You are," he said again leaning over her, "a most interesting young woman."

"Am I?" Sylvanas said, subtly changing the way she stood so that her low neckline gaped slightly—the way Wrynn's eyes immediately fell on her breasts and darkened told her her dress had let him see her nipples, as she'd planned. She straightened, and Wrynn's eyes snapped up to her face immediately.

"You want me to fuck you." If he had thought to shock her with vulgar words, he was sorely mistaken.

Sylvanas simply shrugged. "I would _let_ you fuck me."

Wrynn let go of her arm and leaned back against a pillar, lips quirking in a reluctant smile. They were well away from the rest of the party now and out of sight. Sylvanas could not sense anyone, or any magic, nearby. "Well well, is this what the Night Elves are teaching young noblewomen nowadays?"

"No, I've always been this way," Sylvanas answered. Truthfully, as it happened. She had always like sex. Enjoyed it, savored it. Took pleasure in her body's ability to arouse others' into a fever pitch. Her sensitivity to pheromones and other beings' lusts had been much more acute and developed than other high elves'. It made her into an excellent lover.

Sex was just one more thing Arthas stole from her when he made her a banshee… and it had taken her a long time to get it back. She thought part of the reason he'd turned her incorporeal was her refusal to let him stick his cock in her.

She shook off thoughts of the past and found Wrynn staring at her in frank consideration.

Ah, she thought, the loneliness of the king. She wondered if he slaked his lust with blood elf women and murdered them after. Gods knew an enemy prisoner was a safer alternative than a lover chosen from your own subjects or allies, for various reasons.

She counted herself lucky that the Alliance had so many pretty races to choose from.

"_You_ want to fuck me," Sylvanas said.

"Yes," Wrynn admitted easily, "I imagine your cunt would feel magnificent clenching around my cock. But I don't really think I should."

Sylvanas smiled. "No," she agreed, "you shouldn't. And really, I did not go to this party hoping to have sex with you."

Wrynn raised one brow. "Oh?"

"I'd thought to find a convenient cock tonight, but certainly not one attached to the King of Stormwind."

Wrynn laughed. "I'm not convenient, I take it."

"No, I'm sure you are many things, but convenient is not one of them." Sylvanas was amused. She had yet to utter a single lie during this entire tete a tete. She was also surprised how almost palatable Wrynn's company was when his hatred for the Horde did not make his every word an idiotic bellow.

And in one moment to the next it all changed: Sylvanas flung herself to the wall, flattening her body against it as Wrynn drew his sword and swung at the intruder. She watched as the assassin—wearing the costume of the Defias—dart and charge at the king. The rogue was skilled, and quick, she would give him that. But still he was—

Wrynn parried a blow and cleaved the idiot man in two.

—clearly outmatched.

Blood arced into the air, spattering Wrynn's blade and Sylvanas' face and dress. The dark red stuff felt almost boiling as it landed on her skin, and Sylvanas felt her arousal ratchet higher. Battle always made her blood run hot, especially if she was denied a kill of her own. She closed her eyes and resisted the urge to lick her lips or touch between her legs.

A slam made her open her eyes. Wrynn had plunged his bloodied blade beside her head, his eyes burning anger into her own. He grabbed her arm and roughly dragged her across the room, past incoming guards—always late in any city, she saw—and past the guests who stared at their blood stained figures in shock.

"Get me Jaina!" Wrynn yelled, flinging open a door before throwing Sylvanas inside and following, slamming the door with a bang.

They were in one of the private studies. Sylvanas twitched her skirts around her and, after shooting the rude human a cool look, sat primly on a chair.

"What," Wrynn growled, bearing his teeth, "no tears? Will you cry your innocence to me? Or perhaps beg for mercy?"

Sylvanas wondered if she should kill him now. He would not be expecting any sort of sincere attack from a seemingly weak human woman and it would be better to surprise him before Proudmoore appeared.

But no, this body had only a fraction of her true power and an attack would likely be as easily deflected as the assassin's. She would see what she could learn from Wrynn and Proudmoore before she was unmasked and forced to abandon her control over this body. Truly, there was no real risk to her.

Pity though that she could not discover anything of true value during her time as a spy… or, as she'd told Wrynn, find a convenient cock to fuck.

"I had nothing to do with that attack," she said with disdain.

Wrynn laughed, sharp and mocking. He gripped the arms of her chair, bending over her menacingly, using his bulk in an attempt to intimidate. She met his eyes easily. He should not try that when she could still sense how desperately he wanted to fuck her.

Sylvanas had never found men in a rut intimidating. Pathetic and easily manipulated, yes; intimidating, no.

"I wonder what a fitting punishment would be when Jaina arrives and uncovers your lies," Wrynn murmured, his face close enough to for her to feel his breath. "Shall I send you to rot in the Stockades? Or maybe I shall be merciful and have you beheaded?"

"And what recompense will you give me when Lady Proudmoore confirms that I am innocent?" Sylvanas returned. "Will you give me gold and jewels? Or perhaps a dress to replace the one that you ruined?"

Wrynn chuckled, his lips touching her ear. "If you are indeed innocent, angel, then I promise to give you the best fuck of your life."

"So I am fucked whether I am found guilty or absolved as innocent? How wonderful for you."

He choked back a laugh and then stared at her for a long moment, his eyes moving over her features. He had the most peculiar expression on his face and looked like a halfwit.

"You…" Curiously, he raised a hand to her face, gently rubbing a spot beside her lips with his thumb. "You are..."

"Ahem!"

Wrynn straightened and they turned to find Jaina Proudmoore standing inside the room, a portal glowing softly behind her. "I hope I didn't interrupt?" she said in that quiet way she had.

Wrynn scowled. "Where have you been? Usually you're here the instant I call."

"My apologies, Sire, I was in the middle of a very involved scrying when your mage delivered the summons."

"A Defias rogue attacked me tonight, while I was with Lady Emma," Wrynn said bluntly. "I need to you find out if she was involved in the assassination attempt."

"Oh, I suppose that's why you're both covered in blood?" Jaina asked and then, with a wave of her hand, dispelled the blood from their bodies. Sylvanas tensed at the touch of her magic. Jaina's eyes focused on her. "I have a spell that will reveal if the person had spoken a lie within the last hour. As you can imagine, it is hardly the best test but—"

"Do it," Wrynn said, his eyes on Sylvanas. "Tell me if she's lied to me."

"Very well," Jaina moved to stand in front of her chair. Sylvanas focused her will and readied herself to drop the possession at a moment's notice. Jaina spoke the soft words of the incantation—a clever piece of spellwork, Sylvanas admitted—and a soft gentle light slowly began to glow around Emma Grey's body. It was pure white.

"Sire, this woman has spoken no lies," Jaina said, with finality. The human woman smiled softly at Sylvanas and it seemed, for just a moment, that her eyes became hazy and unfocused before she blinked and moved back and away.

Sylvanas regarded her warily. Had Proudmoore not felt the magic embedded deep in this body? It was possible that her possession was so absolute and complete as to be undetectable… but she had thought of all people Proudmoore would sense it.

"Your name is Lady Emma?" Jaina said. "A pleasure to meet you."

Sylvanas rose gracefully and bowed, gracious. She'd never held ill will toward the powerful mage. "And you, Lady Proudmoore."

"Now I shall, um, leave you to finish your business," Jaina said, blushing. And without another word she slipped through her portal and left.

The silence after the soft humming of the portal had faded was quite deafening. Sylvanas felt Wrynn's eyes on her and turned to him, keeping her face carefully neutral.

"I believe, my lady," he began, "that I owe you…"

Sylvanas quirked a brow, expecting some arrogant human deflection from this most arrogant human of all.

"…an apology." The King of Stormwind bowed his head low. "I regret ever doubting you, Lady." He did not raise his head but kept it bent for a long moment until Sylvanas realized, in shock, that he was waiting for her to forgive him.

Seeing the leader of the Alliance, Varian Wrynn, offering his _neck_ in supplication, to _her_—

"Forgiven," she whispered, her mind suddenly blank of any and all machinations or plans, her breaths coming fast and hard. She felt light headed, almost giddy with power.

She reached for him as soon as he lifted his head.

She wanted him. _Now._

xxx

Wrynn grunted in surprise upon suddenly finding himself holding an armful of amorous Lady. By the gods, she was the most lustful woman he'd ever come across. He wondered, as her hands speared through his hair and his own went straight for her skirts, searching for skin, what deity he'd managed to amuse, to grant him this good fortune.

Her kisses were hot and heady, clouding his mind and fueling his lust like a fever. He'd been hard for what seemed like hours, since he first became aware of her musk—that most alluring scent he'd caught when he'd first come across her, smelling of a woman wet and ready between her legs in the middle of a goddamn society ball.

She'd looked like an angel and smelled like a temptress. He knew, _knew_, even as she stared at him with those blue, deceptively innocent eyes, that her cunt would be slick and warm, would part like butter for his fingers, his tongue, his cock. She'd been teasing him all night, letting her cunt become that wet while standing beside him, knowing he could smell her, letting him see the peaked, pink nipples of her full breasts in the shadows of the ballroom…

It had been deliciously maddening.

And yet, until that damned Defias attack he had no real intention of having her. Even though nothing had been said, they both knew the rules of the game they were playing—they would enjoy their flirtation, let their lusts run high… then inevitably part for their own amusements later that night. She was an unmarried noblewoman, though clearly experienced and worldly, and he was her king; there could have been no other way to end the night.

But the assassin changed everything. The attack, and her seemingly calm reaction to the violence, had made his vision go red. A traitor, he'd thought, but of course; what else could she be, this succubus wearing a human's skin? She'd sought to trick him, to entice and beguile him into lowering his guard for the rogue.

For a moment he'd wanted to plunge his bloody blade into her neck. She'd made him _laugh_, and it had all been a lie—

But then it wasn't a lie. And now it was too late to turn back: she was in his arms, her hands burrowing inside his tunic and shirt, her legs wrapped around his waist. He would not be letting her go even had Onyxia herself risen from the depths of hell and stampeded across the room.

He widened his stance, holding her whole weight easily as she squirmed and rubbed her breasts against his chest. He kept his mouth on hers, sucking on her tongue—much to her pleasure, if her breathy moans were any indication—and reached under her skirts, feeling first silk and lace encasing her legs, then the even silkier texture of her skin. Her stockings ended mid-thigh and-

"God in heaven," he groaned, tearing his mouth from hers as his hands cupped the bare, shapely curves of her ass. The wench wasn't even wearing drawers.

She laughed, low and sweet, and nipped at his jaw. "You approve?"

"Lady, you have no idea." Her skin was so wet from her cunt it was almost impossible to hold on to her, his hands sliding over her skin.

She laughed again, which ended in a choked moan as she threw her head back: his fingers had brushed over her asshole. Immediately he felt her thighs become even slicker. Wrynn grinned.

"What's this? Could this virtuous, innocent lady fancy a little ass play?" He kept his finger on the tight, little pucker and felt it begin to twitch. He rubbed, firmly, but did not go in.

The angel in his arms gasped, her eyes slitting. She dug her nails into his shoulders and licked her swollen lips. "I did wonder, earlier, how you'd prefer to take me. Would you like to fuck my ass, Wrynn?" Her lips curved slyly as a shudder went through his body. "I'd let you," she whispered, "You can lick at my quim while you open my ass with your fingers. I'd let you fuck me over the table, and you can watch your cock sink into my hole while my cunt drenched vital state documents with its juices." She planted little kisses on his lips and Wrynn could do nothing but pant like a dog in heat, his body frozen in lust. She laughed. "Would you like that? Or would you—"

A loud knocking echoed in the room and the two of them stilled, the angel still grinning wickedly at him while his fingers rubbed at her hole. "King Wrynn? Sire? Are you all right?" The familiar voice of the head of his royal guard asked from beyond the door. Thank the gods he'd had the foresight to lock it earlier.

He narrowed his eyes at her smug face and deliberately sank a wet finger in her ass. She gasped, the walls of her ass fluttering wildly around his finger. "I'm fine, Gestus," he called out, keeping his voice steady and calm even as he began to pump in and out of her, as her gasps gave way to soft mewls and her eyes became dazed and unfocused. "I'm almost done with the interrogation and will be out shortly." His other hand found her clit and he pinched the blood engorged nub without warning. The angel bucked and buried her mouth in his shoulder as she screamed out the orgasm that ripped through her body. Her ass clenched almost painfully around his finger and he smiled over the riot of her hair. "Make sure the guests are taken care of, will you, and apologize for the excitement tonight."

"Yes, Sire."

Her arms and legs slackened from the strength her orgasm, even as her ass continued to clench around his finger. Wrynn pulled out—grinning over the bereft noise she made—and carried her to the desk and let her sprawl face down on its wide surface, her legs hanging from the edge.

As she panted into the polished wood and lazily traced patterns upon it with her fingertips, Wrynn grabbed a fistful of her skirts and raised them over her hips, admiring her bare ass framed by the blue fabric of her skirts and the white lace of her stockings.

"Mmm," she murmured and slowly raised one knee onto the desk, purposely exposing her cunt and hole to his eyes.

Wrynn felt his mouth go dry. "Fuck, angel," he swore, hoarse. Her cunt was completely smooth and hairless: there was nothing to stop him from seeing the white and dark pink folds of her labia or the dark, tight pucker of her hole. Both were obscenely wet, shining, almost dripping from her orgasm and their play. As he watched, her cunt quivered, fluttering, and then leaked more juices down her thighs.

"Isn't it pretty?" she asked, her voice almost innocent in its tone. She'd turned her face so she could look at him over her shoulder; the minx had actually put a shy smile on her lips and blinked wide blue eyes at him in pretend naivete. "My cunt, Your Majesty, do you like it?"

The dichotomy between the lewd pose of her body and her faux innocence was almost unbearably erotic.

Wrynn felt beyond mad with lust and this little slip of a girl was _toying_ with him. His hands went to his belt. "Yes, angel, your cunt is _very_ pretty." She watched and bit her lip as he drew out his cock—gods he'd never been this hard his entire life—spreading her legs a little more so her cunt was completely open to him. He reached his hand out then checked himself, quirking a brow at her. "May I?" he asked politely.

She wasn't the only one who could play this game.

She laughed, the sound like bells, her eyes dancing merrily. "Please, Sire," she said, arching her back to tilt her open cunt to him more. "Be my guest."

Wrynn sank his fingers inside her, his hand getting immediately wet. She felt delicious, the slick walls of her channel clinging and twitching around his fingers, her voice rising in little moans and cries. He made sure to stay away from her clit and as soon as his hand was wet enough, withdrew. The angel made a soft sound of annoyance and glared at him.

He raised a brow and deliberately let her see him use her own juices as lubrication on his hard cock. "I think I'd like to fuck your ass, as you suggested earlier. Do you mind?"

"Certainly not, Sire, please do as you will."

Wrynn considered the smug, knowing expression on her face for a moment. His eyes narrowed and he grabbed her hips. "I've changed my mind," he said, and without further warning, sank his cock hilt deep into her cunt.

She screamed, and Wrynn felt her cunt clench and pulse around him in her second orgasm. He didn't let her rest and finally—_yes, finally_—pumped his cock in and out of her in hard, driving thrusts. He'd _never_ had a fuck this good; his entire world shrank to the slick, wet, tightness around his cock.

By the gods this woman felt like she was _made_ for him, for him fucking her.

Vaguely he was aware of her crying out her pleasure in sobs, one hand scrabbling blindly across the desk while the other—_gods yes—_the other played with her clit, her fingers sometimes touching his cock as it plunged inside her.

He forgot everything: his duties, the crown, his kingdom, the Scourge and the Horde—nothing existed beyond this. No longer was he king or gladiator; in this moment, with this woman, he was just a _man._

It was glorious, the feeling was magnificently liberating, and he sought to keep it, hold it for as long as he could.

He lost track of time but felt when she shuddered into a third orgasm, then shortly afterward, another. When he knew the end was near, could feel his balls rising and tightening, he bent over her back, his mouth close to her ear as his hips moved in quick, hard thrusts. He turned her head and kissed her open, panting mouth and said, from the depths of his heart:

"Thank you."

Her eyes snapped open to meet his—shocked and wet with tears from their fucking—and she screamed, her voice high and lilting, echoing around them as her cunt convulsed around his cock in what felt like her strongest climax yet.

Varian Wrynn buried his mouth in her hair and shouted his release in the most intense orgasm of his entire life. His cock pulsed in her cunt, filling it with his seed, for what felt like years and then… then, finally, it was over.

He had enough presence of mind not to crush her into the table, and managed to pull out—she gave a soft mewl at this—and stagger to a nearby chair.

For a long moment the room was silent save for their panting breaths, and Wrynn tried to blink away the dancing black and white spots in his vision. He felt light headed, not unlike almost dying from blood loss. God's oath, he realized with a start, he'd almost passed out.

When he thought he could manage to do more than stare slack jawed into space, he turned to the lady currently lying, wrecked, on his desk. Her hair was a mess of curls completely covering her head while her back rose and fell quickly with her still gasping breaths. Her legs were still splayed apart and Wrynn had a truly excellent view of her fucked open cunt as it slowly leaked out his seed, the white stuff staining her thighs and the wood under her.

He would have loved to put his mouth to her right now if he thought his legs would carry him. At the thought his cock twitched and he winced; it was still much too soon, even for him.

Slowly he became aware that his angel had actually fallen asleep like that, her breaths now coming even and shallow. He quirked a smile, charmed, and summoned the strength to put them somewhat to rights and gather her into his arms. Her face was heart wrenchingly innocent in slumber and Wrynn tried to wipe her sweaty, tear stained face as best as he could without waking her.

He took a secret passage that lead to one of the guest bed chambers. He had no doubt that the entire keep had heard them fucking, but it would be easier to demand discretion if he did not flaunt the affair in front of them.

He would ask one of his more trusted people to escort his angel to her home tomorrow, he decided as he laid her on the four poster bed. "Or," he murmured softly as he considered her sleeping face in the moonlight, "perhaps I will keep you for myself, angel. Would you allow that, I wonder?"

She slept on, and Wrynn laid a kiss on her lips before melting into the shadows and away.

XXX

Royal Quarters

Undercity

Horde Territory

Sylvanas gasped, her limbs still trembling from aftershocks. Her eyes were wide and unseeing as she sank her fingers into her quim, rubbing at the incredible wetness and her over-sensitive clit. She imagined she could actually feel Wrynn's seed inside her still, mixed with her own juices.

It was extremely fortunate that she had thought to sequester herself in her private, well-warded rooms during the times she took possession of the human girl's body. She knew she would be vulnerable to attack and had prepared accordingly. She had thought to keep people out of her rooms, but was glad for the precaution for during the possession of the human girl's body her own would inevitably channel strong physical reactions.

Generally, it meant that if she was injured as Emma Grey, her health would suffer too here in Undercity, though in a much limited capacity as that silly human body did not have anywhere near her own strength. Now, though, she discovered that her body will also channel intense pleasure as well as pain.

She had been truly stunned with Wrynn during the last moments of their coupling and, after that final, glorious climax, unconsciously broke the possession. To fall back into her own body caught in the grip of the strongest orgasm she'd ever felt was a shock.

Now she considered if she should return to continue her ruse. On one hand, she remained undiscovered and was still in a position to discover war information for the Horde, but on the other…

Bah, there was no other choice but to continue—she had not yet succeeded in her plan. She will not back down now just because Varian Wrynn can make her come like a bloody pulse cannon.

She will repossess the silly human body in the morrow.

There is no other option but success. She _will_ do this. For the Horde.

XXX


	2. Chapter 2

Warnings: Again, for mature readers only.

XXX

Chapter Two

Stormwind Castle

Stormwind

Alliance Territory

Penny the maid cautiously entered the Bluebell Room in the eastern guest wing. She noted in relief that the Lady Emma was still asleep and lay unmoving under the covers, her face in shadow. She waved the footmen inside and they quietly and efficiently brought in the large copper bathing tub filled with steaming hot water while she herself arranged the lady's breakfast on the table by the window.

When she'd woken up this morning the entire staff below stairs was buzzing with the most shocking news: the king, who she'd never heard in her five years of service take a lover once, had… _relations_ with some unknown lady—an unmarried lady!—last night during the ball. Penny had not been required in the main halls so did not witness it herself, but Hildy said—who heard from Craton who heard from one of the junior mages—that His Majesty and the Lady had been so… _animated_ that Gestus had Mage Wythe put a silencing charm over the room!

It had been all so scandalous that Penny had not even heard a single word about the assassination attempt until she'd run across Colburn in the hallway who was scrubbing away the dried blood.

_Then_ Majordomo Herst had come into the kitchens and announced that the king expected that the Lady Emma be treated with the utmost respect and deference, that anyone caught gossiping or spreading ill words about her person would be severely punished.

And in the court of King Varian Wrynn the words 'severely punished' should not taken lightly.

The kitchens had grown silent as the grave at the majordomo's words. Penny had not understood the import of such an announcement until she'd caught Yvonne, one of the lead cooks, who'd told her in a furious whisper:

"Idiot! If we've_ specifically _been told to defer to her then that means King Wrynn is taking this Lady Emma under the formal protection of his name and _that_ can mean only one of two things: either he wishes for her to become his mistress, or his royal wife!"

Penny's eyes had grown wide as saucers but before she could even begin to think about the consequences of such an event—a mistress! a _queen_!—the majordomo had pulled her aside and told her to prepare a breakfast and a bath to take to the Bluebell Room where Lady Emma was sleeping.

Penny adjusted the slant of the butter knife and worried her lip, wishing she'd thought to bring some fresh flowers in a vase along with the food. She heard that the Lady Emma was exceedingly beautiful and Penny was sure she would have preferred to have some pretty flowers to look at while she ate—

"A bath, just what I needed."

"Eep!" Penny squeaked, jumping in surprise, the butter knife flying from her hand. She whirled around just in time to see one of the most beautiful women she'd ever seen pluck the wayward spinning cutlery straight out of mid-air. "L-Lady Emma? You're awake! I, uh, did not hear you." Belatedly Penny sank into a deep curtsy and glared at the gaping footmen to bow. "Good morning, my lady."

"Yes, good morning," the Lady said in what must surely be the most melodious, lilting voice Penny had ever heard. She put the knife back on the table, her movements the very personification of grace even while wearing a wrinkled ball gown that was practically falling off her shoulders.

Oh, Penny thought, stars in her eyes as she looked at Lady Emma's face as it was bathed in the bright morning sunlight, she would make such a lovely, beautiful queen! What gorgeous blonde hair she has—looking romantically tousled falling over her shoulders! How lovely and blue her eyes; how long her lashes! How flawless and smooth the skin of her shoulders, her breas—

"Dear heavens are you undressing?" Penny shrieked.

"I wish to take a bath," the Lady said, raising her eyebrows, gown hanging from her elbows, her breasts bared with nipples peaked in the crisp morning air.

Penny gaped for a moment before throwing her apron over Lady Emma's torso and yelling at the drooling, bug-eyed footmen still in the room. "Leave us!"

"Ah, I'd forgotten how prudish you all are," Lady Emma murmured as the men filed out of the room and closed the door.

"I'd think it's just common sense!" Penny exclaimed, then said, coughing, "Uh, my lady." Quickly she drew away the apron and set to work undressing the lady. Penny could not help but admire each new inch of skin uncovered; the lady was truly, uncommonly stunning. If Penny had not seen the rounded shell of the Lady's ears herself she would think Lady Emma was one of those beautiful—yet horrible—Blood Elves!

Penny blushed as soon as the Lady was naked and averted her eyes from the dried white flecks staining Lady Emma's upper thighs. Goodness that must be—the king's—oh my!

It was easier to be professional when the Lady had lowered herself into the hot bathwater. Penny busied herself pouring bath oils and dried rose petals, unwinding her lady's hair from her ruined coiffure and washing the heavy silken mass.

Having possessed herself a small amount of magic, Penny was able to dry Lady Emma's person in a moment. She quickly dressed her in the light green morning gown that they had asked her House to send over.

As Penny threaded a pale green lace ribbon through Lady Emma's hair in a simple chignon, she couldn't help but imagine what it might be like having this beautiful and gracious—if a little odd—Lady as the Queen Consort…

She chanced a smile at Lady Emma's composed, calm face over the vanity mirror. Penny imagined it would be quite _lovely_.

xxx

Sylvanas had forgotten how tedious it was to be waited on and dressed by servants. It was all she could do not to strangle the silly girl with the ribbon the little maid insisted on attaching to her hair.

What good were hair ribbons and lace in a battle? She thought to herself derisively. By this time in Undercity she would have already crushed a band of renegade trolls and beheaded three traitors to her reign.

Not that there were many more of those left among the Forsaken, after the purge she'd led since Varimathras' betrayal.

Finally the girl seemed satisfied by the proper set of her hair and the neat fall of her gown. And all for nothing, Sylvanas thought, as she planned on getting herself fucked by Wrynn and then seeing what information she could glean from his advisers as soon as possible.

When she awoke in this body and discovered that Wrynn had placed her in one of the royal guest bed chambers, and had clearly ordered the servants to not only attend her but _defer_ to her, she realized that the fool was actually considering to make her his lover! After one night of—granted, quite excellent—fucking, the idiot man had let his cock lead his brain.

Sylvanas had almost burst out in laughter.

She had thought to use this body to gather information from some minor dignitary, but now she had the chance to discover all of Stormwind's secrets when she gained access to Wrynn's inner circle as his mistress. It was most delightful.

"Would you like a scone or a muffin with your breakfast, my lady?" Sylvanas flicked her eyes at the repast laid out before her and remembered that this body was one of the living and would need to consume food to keep its strength.

She kept forgetting that small fact.

However…

"I would would like to break my fast with the King," she said, and stood to leave the room.

Flustered, the little human chased after her. "But, my lady! His Majesty usually has his breakfast with his advisers, during their morning session."

Oh does he, really? Perfect. "And where is that?"

"The west parlor, but—but my lady!" Sylvanas ignored the rest of the human's babble and used her senses to find the room in question. Although she'd never been in the keep's private residential areas, her skills as a ranger served her well and she arrived at the correct door in minutes.

It was shut and two soldiers stood guard, but all Sylvanas had to do was imbue her voice with authority—and a touch of enchantment—and they opened it readily enough.

What a weak willed group of soldiers Wrynn had.

Every eye in the room turned to her as soon as she walked in and all conversation abruptly stopped. Wrynn sat at the head of a long table laden with food, his face thunderous as he'd been listening to some old man wearing the self-important robes of a priest beside him.

"What's the meaning of this?" One dour looking noble stood and exclaimed. "Who do you think you are, barging into our meeting like this? Guards!"

Hm, she'd forgotten how prissy live court officials were.

Wrynn held up a hand just as the soldiers stationed outside reached for her arms. "Halt," he said, his voice mild. The expression on his face was less annoyed now, and Sylvanas could see a touch of amusement in his eyes. "You have excellent timing, my dear," he said, motioning for her to come to him. Sylvanas did, keeping her eyes on him while her other senses took in the reactions from the eight advisers around the table. She felt curiosity and wariness most of all, but there was also a hint of… fear? Ah, and resentment. How interesting.

Living creatures were so much more easily deciphered than the dead. It must be because they still gave off heat.

Wrynn stood and offered her his hand, turning her to those assembled. "Lady Emma Grey, may I introduce… my various advisers, or at least, some of them."

There was a pregnant pause while everyone in the room absorbed the fact that the king had given precedence to a relatively unknown lady over a selection of his trusted advisers. Slowly they each stood and bowed to her, pretty, charming words spilling from their mouths while their shrewd eyes took in her dress, the way she stood, and the significance of Wrynn introducing her to them as she held his right hand.

Sylvanas kept a small, polite smile on her face even as her mind raced with possibilities and theories.

"Lady Emma is to be my guest for the foreseeable future, I trust that you will all endeavor to make her stay pleasant," Wrynn continued, his voice deceptively soft and amiable. A delicious chill shivered down Sylvanas' spine. Murmured assent rose from the men and women. "And now I would like to finish my breakfast in peace." He held his hand up to forestall arguments. "I will think on your words and we shall continue our discussion this afternoon. Now leave us."

One by one they all bowed and left, the priest—Bishop Belvedere—shooting one last look at Sylvanas before exiting.

"I don't want to be disturbed," Wrynn said to the guards who nodded and shut the doors firmly.

Sylvanas dropped the vacuous expresson on her face and raised her brows at him, eyes narrowed. Wrynn smiled and casually tilted her chin up for a kiss. "Good morning, angel," he murmured against her lips.

"You just introduced me to your advisers as you would a consort," Sylvanas said bluntly, moving her lips against his. The game had changed on her: Wrynn might have been fool enough to decide to make an easy fuck into his mistress, but he would inot/i have presented her as a legitimate companion, no matter how much he enjoyed her quim. "You are planning something. Explain."

She felt him smile. He gave her a final kiss and lick and then regained his seat. "Why is it that I feel like I've known you all my life when I only first laid eyes on you last night?" he asked mildly, reaching for a piece of bacon.

"My tight cunt has fooled you into thinking we're best friends," Sylvanas said, impatient. He laughed. "Now explain yourself, Wrynn."

"Sit down and have some breakfast," he said. Sylvanas waited a moment then took a seat. Wrynn placed a small plate of honeyed fruit in front of her. As soon as she popped a peeled grape into her mouth he continued, "the assassination attempt last night, did you notice anything odd about it?"

Sylvanas chewed and considered. She had two options: assist Wrynn with whatever plot he was hatching to gain his trust and confidence, or pretend stupidity while secretly discovering who wanted the King of Stormwind dead and help them. Both options had merit, but…

"He was too obviously dressed as a Defias," she said. Wrynn smiled at her, eyes warming. "I've heard that forty Horde could not bring you down, and yet you are supposed to believe the Defias sent one lone rogue to somehow slit your throat. Someone wants you dead," she concluded, "but it isn't the Defias—or at least, not any more than usual."

"Charming," he murmured, eyes at half-mast, and pressed a piece of sweetmeat to her lips. She let him place it on her tongue and took the opportunity to nip at his finger before he withdrew. He leaned back in his chair and licked the digit. His eyes drifted to the cleavage framed by her gown's neckline. "You know I never did get to see your breasts last night," he said casually.

Sylvanas raised a brow. His pheromones, apparently as potent during the day as they were at night, had not stopped assaulting her senses since she'd walked in the room. Her quim had been damp even before they'd been left alone, as she was sure he knew. She loosened the laces of her gown and delicately tugged her neckline down until her breasts spilled over it, warm sunlight falling across them from the high windows, making her nipples peak and her bath-fresh skin glow.

"Lovely," he whispered, staring, his eyes dark and his breathing deep. He seemed disinclined to move from his sprawl so Sylvanas lifted one hand to trace her fingertip around one aureole then cupped the breast, using the nail of her thumb to scratch at her nipple, making her gasp. "Yes, someone does want me to think that the Defias have become active once again." Sylvanas continued to fondle her breasts, using both hands now, as Wrynn went on with his explanation. "This morning all my advisers tried to impress upon me the importance of sending men to crush what's left of the organization. Men I could ill afford to send off in a fool's errand." Her blood running so hot now, Sylvanas moved to reach under her skirts, gods her quim was so wet. "Don't!" Wrynn ordered, and Sylvanas glared at him before putting both hands back on her breasts, caressing them and pinching her nipples between her fingers.

Finally, Wrynn moved, shoving plates away. He plucked her from her chair and sat her on the table in front of him. He grinned wickedly at her flushed face and took his seat between her legs, slowly running his hands up her calves, thighs, raising her skirts along the way. "What do you suppose they'll all think when I introduce you, a lady they've never even heard of—" he flipped her skirt up, exposing her soaked drawers "—as my new consort?" He hooked a finger along the crotch of her underwear and tugged sharply, tearing the delicate silk with a rip.

Sylvanas keened as he stroked her uncovered clit, already so ready to be played with. She shivered through a small climax and panted as she watched him take a honeyed grape from a platter and slowly rub it against the swollen pink nub before pushing it inside her cunt with a strong finger. "Answer me, angel," he ordered as he thumbed her clit and crooked his finger inside her, to hit that spot that—

"Ah!" Sylvanas cried, cunt clenching around his finger in orgasm. She felt the grape burst inside her. Her legs trembled around his shoulders and she gasped, "they—they'll think I've ensorcelled you—"

"Yes," Wrynn hissed and put his mouth on her quim, thrusting his tongue past her labia, licking up to her clit and sucking strongly. Sylvanas gripped his hair and screamed. He tore his mouth from her cunt. "What else?" he asked, licking at the crease of her thigh. "What will they _do_, angel? Tell me." He licked into her again, letting her feel his teeth. She felt him rub at her hole.

"Th—they'll try to find out who—ah!—who sent me, what I wan—ah!" Her cunt quivered and clenched around his tongue, climaxing as soon as he plunged one thick finger into her ass.

"Yes," he said, suddenly drawing away and standing, kicking his chair back as he took out his cock and hauled her to his chest. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he fucked into her in one smooth, hard thrust. "And you know what that will get me, angel?" he panted, punctuating each word with a shove of his hips.

Sylvanas was beyond words, now, almost beyond thought, her neck arched back and her mouth open as he fucked little gasping cries from her lips. Gods his cock was so perfect, so hard, so _big_ inside her. He always fucked her in the best possible way, hitting that spot, making her see _stars_.

"_Time_," he growled, grinding his hips into hers. "It will buy me time to find out _who_ wants to fuck with me—" and yes, gods, _this_ was the gladiator king, the brilliant military mind that she'd warred against for _years_ "—and I will _end_ them."

He thrust, pressing a hard finger on her clit, and Sylvanas felt herself fall apart, screaming and bucking in his arms, clenching around his cock until she felt him jerk and pump his seed into her, flooding her cunt until he leaked out of her.

They clutched at each other, after, gasping for breath. Eventually Wrynn tilted her face up and kissed her lazily, his tongue licking at her lips.

"So," Sylvanas panted, "I am to be a pawn in your games, then?"

Wrynn smirked. "Hardly, angel. You can be nothing less than a queen."

Oh, Sylvanas thought as she traced a scar on his face with gentle fingers, the one that she had carved there herself with one of her arrows, if you only knew.

xxx

Mage Quarter

Stormwind

Alliance Territory

Cora Carstairs finished reading the missive in her hands and promptly threw the offending stationary to the ground. But even as she shut her eyes the words refused to fade from her sight: 'the king seems unusually enamored,' 'ordered the servants to defer to her,' 'presented the Lady Emma formally and with precedence…'

Hate could not even begin to describe the ugly, twisting feeling taking root in her gut.

How dare she. How dare this _bitch_, this unknown guttersnipe, think that she can just waltz in and take what Cora had been working towards for a decade!

The queen's crown was meant for Tiffany! The House of Wrynn was supposed to ally to the Carstairs—not some nouveau riche _interlopers_!

She bit her thumb and calmed herself: all was not lost. The king was just indulging himself in a bit of play with a light skirt… like all men, he was temporarily blinded by some slut's easy cunt. The novelty will pass, surely…

But it wouldn't hurt to help it along.

First, she needed to find out everything about this bitch. Quickly she began to pen a letter addressed to Iren Moonswallow in Rut'theran. The Night Elf owed her a favor, and would certainly be able to tell her everything about the girl's stay in Darnassus.

Emma Grey would rue the day she ever thought to make an enemy out of her.

XXX


	3. Chapter 3

Notes: I'm not the guy to ask about lore, so don't be looking for that in this story, lol. Mostly, that means that I can't be assed to research or speculate into what Blizz is planning, story-wise, for Cataclysm. Think of this story as existing in a temporal limbo, post-WotLK but pre-Cata... or something. I'm still not 100% if I _should_ be posting full chapters here in ff dot net, even though everyone pretty much ignores the rating rules... so if my conscience kicks at me hard enough later, I might abandon posting here altogether and only post on adultfanfiction dot net. Sorry, but I just don't like the idea of corrupting minors... uh, actual real life minors, that is.

Warning: this chapter contains sex with a very, very lucky 16 year old (guy).

You guys enjoy the story, I know I did, heh.

Last Edit: Dec. 31, 2010

XXX

Stormwind Castle

Stomwind

Alliance Territory

After Wrynn assisted in making her presentable again—placing a kiss on the nape of her neck as he raised her dress—Sylvanas took the king's arm and he led her on a tour of the royal grounds. She arranged an expression of polite interest on her face as he showed her the gardens, the music parlors and various other useless rooms a gently bred young noblewoman would find of interest.

She did not think it would be wise to ask to be shown the war room or the armory.

Sylvanas was aware that Wrynn did not entirely trust her, and would not be surprised if he'd already sent people to ferret out information about her. However, she was secure enough in her disguise so as to be relatively unconcerned, for now; if Jaina Proudmoore could not sense that the Forsaken's Queen had taken possession of this body, then she doubted any other sorcerer in the castle can.

Having made the decision to gain Wrynn's confidence in the interim, Sylvanas knew that her time as a spy will have to be adjusted accordingly: this can be no longer be a simple and quick mission. She would have to make arrangements in Undercity to compensate for her extended periods of absence… Areiel should serve well as her deputy: the Dark Ranger's loyalty to Sylvanas was strong, her skill as a leader-general cannot be doubted, and she was one of the three people already aware of the Queen's current occupation.

Wrynn stopped to allow a group of young mages scurry past them, their arms full of books and trailing scrolls. They bowed and murmured greetings to their King while casting speculative eyes on her person. Sylvanas inclined her head to them graciously.

She was amused by how her presence has disrupted Wrynn's court. She could practically taste the ripples of political intrigue and changing agendas in her wake. Already Wrynn's plan was beginning to take root: an unseen person had cast a delicate spell meant to reveal a hidden form on her body as she and Wrynn passed a partially closed door.

She had felt the spell, of course, but was surprised that Wrynn did as well—his arm had tensed for a split moment under her fingers. Interesting, she thought, so the warrior secretly carried some sensitivity to subtle magics. She would have to be prudent, then, in casting any spells around his vicinity.

They stopped by one of the large stained-glass windows on the upper levels. The sun was high in the sky—something Sylvanas knew she would have to accustom herself in this human city—filtering bright light through the colorful glass, dappling their bodies in shades of greens and blues. Wrynn let go of her arm and leaned back against the wall, his eyes unreadable as he considered her.

Sylvanas let the man look his fill and watched a small company of soldiers run drills in the courtyard. They looked more like boys and girls playing with sticks than anything resembling a military unit. Disgusted, she turned away.

"You are quite beautiful in the sunlight," Wrynn said, though his voice did not hold a lover's cadence.

"And this angers you?" Sylvanas touched a finger to the glass; its grain was not as fine as those in Silvermoon.

"You are also lovely in candlelight and ethereal in moonlight," Wrynn continued. "I cannot take my eyes from you and yet you act as though having a king's regard is only your due."

"Ah," Sylvanas said, smiling coyly at him. "You are in a sulk. Shall I fawn over you then? Exclaim how broad your shoulders are, how muscled your arms? Do you want me to fall into a swoon at your feet at the size of your… sword?"

Wrynn chuckled, his eyes lightening. "You make me laugh so easily, angel," he said, touching her chin and tilting her face up for a kiss. Their lips met, clung.

"I want to suck you."

Wrynn touched her bottom lip with his thumb. "Yes, but later. Right now I have responsibilities to see to." He let her go and stepped back. "I will see you tonight."

"I think I will visit the Cathedral this afternoon," Sylvanas told him. It was something she needed to do. And, if all goes well, there can be much information to be heard among the silent clergy if one only knew how to listen.

"Ah," Wrynn said, "perhaps I shall meet you there. I have not spoken with the High Priestess in an age." He bowed and she curtsied.

They were both perfectly aware of the hidden ears listening to their conversation.

XXX

Cathedral of Light

Stormwind

Alliance Territory

This, Sylvanas thought as she stepped into the Cathedral's main hall, will be the true test of the disguise.

Crawling with talented priests and paladins, if there was any location more dangerous to her ruse, it would be here. And if she should meet the High Priestess or the Archbishop…

But this was necessary: Sylvanas could not move forward in her plans unless she was certain beyond any doubt that her charade will not be discovered. If she were able to walk without impunity in these most hallowed halls then indeed her possession was perfect and the human body had accepted her soul as its own.

Sylvanas would be able to move among Wrynn's court without any fear of discovery.

She kept her gait smooth and her face composed as she strolled between the massive marble pillars. There were not many petitioners at this time of the day, just one ragged looking adventurer gawping about, and the heels of her impractical shoes echoed quietly under the arched ceilings.

"Welcome, noble Lady, to the Cathedral of Light," a plain-robed monk greeted her with a bow. "How may we be of service?"

"Please pay me no heed," Sylvanas said, "I simply wish to reacquaint myself with the Cathedral—I have been away from the city for quite some time."

The monk smiled kindly upon her and Sylvanas continued on, stopping before the steps leading up to the altar where the High Priestess was conversing with two paladins. Archbishop Benedictus stood not three feet from her.

She saw, from the corner of her eye, Benedictus turn and consider her, his eyes sharp in his wrinkled face. After a long moment he turned away, and Sylvanas resisted the urge to smile in triumph.

When Wrynn entered the Cathedral, Sylvanas felt his presence before even hearing the commotion by the entrance. She breathed deeply, letting her breasts swell against the confines of her gown. She wondered, wickedly, what it would be like if Wrynn were to fuck her over the altar's surface, her breasts bared and swaying in front of the entire congregation, hundreds of supposedly holy eyes on her as she took her pleasure from their King and cried out her climax on his cock.

Wrynn stopped just behind her shoulder. He dipped his head and whispered low in her ear: "You look so pious and smell so sinful, angel, care to share what's on your mind?"

Sylvanas turned to smile at him, her face the picture of innocence, but before she could indeed tell him what was on her mind, Benedictus called out a greeting. "Sire, it is a pleasure to see you. Pray, what brings you to the Cathedral?"

Wrynn straightened, and became instantly the King of Stormwind. Sylvanas took his proffered arm and schooled her body, following his lead. "The Lady Emma wished to visit the Cathedral, and I found that I preferred to accompany her; I had not realized how long ago I had last visited these halls."

"Yes," Benedictus said, not batting an eye at the inclusion of an unknown lady in the King's speech as though she belonged there. "It has certainly been some time since you've last been here. But that is only to be expected, having been preoccupied with the battles in Northrend." He smiled at Sylvanas and bowed. "Lady Emma, is it?"

Sylvanas curtsied. "Emma Grey, your holiness."

"Welcome to the Cathedral of Light, child."

"King Wrynn, this is a pleasant surprise," High Priestess Laurena said kindly, walking down the altar steps.

"It has been too long, Priestess," Wrynn said. "May I introduce Lady Emma?"

The two women greeted each other, and Sylvanas saw nothing but pleasant regard in Laurena's eyes.

"It is fortuitous that you visited us today, it has saved me a trip to the castle," Laurena said to the King.

"Indeed," Wrynn said, and without being told Sylvanas let go of his arm and stepped away, bowing.

"I will leave you to your discussion," she said. "It was a pleasure to meet you, High Priestess, Archbishop." She left to stand by the entrance. While she certainly would have heard something interesting had she stayed with Wrynn, she knew that it would be more to her benefit to not be seen as grasping for information. It would make Wrynn trust her more, later.

Besides, it can't be very valuable information if it was something they could speak about in the open like this.

The attack, when it came, was not a surprise.

The rogue—again garbed like a Defias—came at her from the shadows. She heard Wrynn shout. Sylvanas was prepared to dodge the assassin's swords but the adventurer she noted earlier jumped in front of her like a fool, clumsily deflecting the attack.

The idiot was weak though, and clearly unskilled; the rogue quickly lacerated his body in several places before Wrynn descended upon them like a wrathful god and thrust the Shalla'tor in the assassin's body.

Wrynn shook the corpse from his blade and gripped her arms harshly. "Are you—"

Sylvanas frowned at him. "I am well, Sire. Compose yourself. Your attention would be better served on the fool that tried to save me."

Wrynn's arms tightened his grip for a moment before letting go. They turned to the fallen adventurer—a youth barely out of boyhood, really—as Laurena urgently cast a series of healing spells over his body. Eventually the boy's face no longer looked to be in pain but Laurena's brow was still furrowed in worry.

"Thank you," the boy said weakly, his voice cracking.

"I'm afraid you shouldn't thank me yet, child," the Priestess said. "There is a poison in your body that I cannot cure; I have only healed your wounds and removed the symptoms of pain but…" she turned to a monk, "Quick! Bring me Lord Grayson!"

The paladin was already approaching them even before she finished calling. "What is this?" he yelled, holy mace held at the ready. "An attack? Here?"

"This brave youth deflected an attack meant for my lady," Wrynn said, his voice severe. "The rogue had poisoned him."

There was a minute pause from everyone at his words. Then Grayson knelt by the boy and cast his own spells. After a moment he shook his head, his face like stone. "This is a poison I am unfamiliar with. It is strong, and aggressive in his blood and organs." He laid a hand on the boy's shaking shoulders. "I am sorry, my son."

"Oh," the boy said, weakly. "So I am to die then?"

Beside her Wrynn exuded fury in waves; Sylvanas could feel his anger funnel into a need to do battle, to kill. "How long does he have?" she asked, claiming all their attention.

"A few hours, nothing more," Grayson said, his voice heavy.

She turned to the boy who was currently sniffling into a dirty sleeve. "Quit your crying, boy, you are a warrior, are you not?"

"Ye-yes, but—"

"You have hours to live: what do you want to do?"

He sucked in a deep breath and stood up, straightening his shoulders. "I, I believe I want to rest and, and be comfortable in my final moments."

What a pathetic wish, Sylvanas thought.

Laurena placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Have you no family, child? Do you not want to say your farewells to your loved ones?"

"Ah, no," he said, flushing. "I'm an orphan, and only sixteen years, no one has even invited me in their guild… I, I don't have anyone, yet…" Again, he looked about ready to burst into tears. Laurena put her arms around him.

"Oh poor boy!" she cried, "I am so sorry…"

"Then come with us," Sylvanas said, having no patience for such sentimentality. "If you wish to spend the last of your life in comfort, you may spend it in the castle, instead of some common inn."

"Uh," the boy stuttered, shooting a nervous look at the furious King. "I don't think—"

"I agree," Wrynn said, voice booming with frustrated anger. "Come along, boy. I may not be there for the thousands of my people who've died in my name, but I will hold vigil with you this night."

Sylvanas looked at Wrynn's imposing face, and slipped her arm through his. His muscles jerked but he did not dislodge her fingers.

They left the Cathedral, the boy meekly trailing in their wake.

XXX

Stormwind Castle

Stormwind

Alliance Territory

A room—one of those reserved for visiting dignitaries—was quickly prepared for the boy. He turned around, once, twice, at the opulent surroundings, mouth open in awe. "Ohh…" He ran curious fingers over the shining surfaces of the furniture, stroked his hand over the rich coverlet of the bed.

Sylvanas paid him no mind. She watched as Wrynn shrugged off his cloak and unbuckled and threw down some of his armor. The loud noise made the boy jump and squeak.

"Calm yourself," Sylvanas told the nervous boy. "The King is not angry with you, only annoyed with the circumstances of your impending death."

"Oh," he said, gulping. "I'm sorry? Um, I don't feel any pain at all, if that helps…"

"What is your name, boy?" Wrynn asked, suddenly.

"J-Jack, Sire."

"Jack. You are a native of Stormwind?"

The boy nodded. "Born—well, I'm not sure if I was born here—but I was raised in the orphanage."

"And you are of the warrior class," Wrynn said, voice hard. Sylvanas took a seat and resigned herself to wait until after Wrynn had satisfied his king's guilt before getting a cock in her mouth.

"Well," the boy said, flushing. "Not, not like you, or your soldiers or um, any of the great adventurers out there… but yes, I guess." He smiled crookedly, embarrassed. "My patron last year during Children's Week was a warrior, and he took me with his battalion as they laid siege on Icecrown Citadel."

"I see."

"Yes, it was truly an epic battle," he continued, becoming more animated now. "I saw the Lich King himself! Right there, sitting on his frozen throne! They, uh, did not manage to slay him… but it was a very close thing, and my patron's shield took the blows from Frostmourne like, like they were nothing!" He smiled down at his hands. "I wanted to grow up just like him… so I became a warrior. I wanted to carry a shield and protect my comrades like he did. But I guess that won't happen, now."

Oh hell, Sylvanas thought as she saw Wrynn's face became more and more dark during the boy's heartfelt tale, at this rate the only company my quim will get tonight will be my own fingers.

"So," she said, "if you could choose your reward for your bravery this day, you would like a shield of your own?"

"Yes, absolutely," the boy said, grinning, then winced. "But I don't think a shield would do me any good where I'm going."

"True enough," Sylvanas said, standing. "What other rewards would you wish for? Gold? A piece of armor?"

"Well, yes," he answered, brow wrinkling in confusion. "But, it's not as if I can take any of those in the afterlife."

"Mm, yes," she murmured, stopping in front of him. "That does make it difficult. What suitable reward then, would you consider fitting for a man about to die?"

"Um…" the boy trailed off, his eyes wide as he stared first at her face then, slowly, at the deep cleavage revealed by her dress. He gulped. "I, ah, I don't understand the question?"

Sylvanas met Wrynn's eyes over the youth's head. He was staring at her with an incredulous expression on his face… that slowly morphed into reluctant admiration and amusement. Yes, that's right, she thought, pleased, come play with me Wrynn.

"Have you had a woman, boy?" Wrynn asked, his voice almost pleasant now.

"Wh-what?" he squeaked. He almost stumbled back in surprise, but was stopped by Wrynn's hand on his shoulder.

"A woman," Wrynn repeated as he reached out a finger to Sylvanas' jaw, trailing it delicately down her neck. "Have you ever felt a cunt gripping your cock? Touched and suckled on a breast?"

"Ah, n-no," the boy stuttered, looking like his eyes were about to fall from their sockets.

"Then I'll show you," Wrynn said, and hooked his finger on the neckline of her dress, tugging it down until one peaked, pink nipple popped free. "As your reward."

The boy choked on air, mouth open and almost drooling.

This, Sylvanas thought as she looked from the boy's stupid face to Wrynn's intrigued expression, will be _quite_ satisfying.

XXX

Jack wasn't sure if he'd already died from the poison and was now hallucinating among the stars. Death seemed to be a more reasonable scenario than the one he was actually in right now: staring at a beautiful woman's—a noble Lady's!—nipple that the King had just revealed to him.

He'd never even seen a naked breast outside of the dirty pamphlets the boys sometimes managed to smuggle into the orphanage.

And this one was so… so…

"Pretty, isn't it?" the King said, idly rubbing it with a large thumb. Jack watched as it grew even more… stiff, pointing right at him. "Answer me when I ask a question."

Jack jumped at the command. "Yes," he stuttered, "it's very pretty."

"Touch it," the King said, taking his hand away.

Gulping, Jack chanced a glance at the Lady's face and saw her looking over his shoulder at the King, a small smile on her beautiful face. He jerked his hand up, then down.

"Go on, she'll let you." The King moved to stand behind the Lady. Jack slowly raised his hand and touched the nipple gently. It was tender yet firm and felt... really, really good.

"Ohhh…" Jack breathed, awed.

"Take her breasts out, she likes it when men look at her." Gulping, he put both hands to her chest and, as gently as he could, lowered the pretty red dress until both breasts came into his view, bouncing ever so slightly. Jack couldn't help it, he put his hands on them. The King chuckled, but Jack barely heard him. "Yes, they're gorgeous, aren't they? Big and soft, they overfill a man's hands."

"Yes," Jack whispered, entranced, caressing the soft, generous curves, touching the hard nipples. He pinched them lightly, before he could think twice about it, and the Lady gave a shuddering breath, the breasts in his hands quivering.

"He seems to like them, angel," the King murmured to her, kissing the curve where her neck met her shoulder. She arched in Jack's hands. "Suck her tits, Jack. Make her feel good."

Not needing to be told twice, Jack put his lips around one nipple, groaning at the feel of the hard nub against his tongue and the soft, tender skin under his lips. She moaned, and the vibration went from Jack's mouth straight to his cock. He'd never been so hard in his entire _life_.

"She tastes good, doesn't she?"

Jack tore his mouth from her breast and gasped. "Yes. So good."

"Her cunt tastes even better," the King said, casually. Jack whined, and helplessly grabbed his cock through his pants, made himself stop from coming. "It's wet now, greedy for a man's mouth, or cock. Do you think she'll let you look at it?"

"I—I," Jack stuttered.

"Ask her," the King ordered. "Ask her nicely and maybe she'll even let you stick your cock in it. I guarantee she'll give you the ride of your life."

Almost blind with lust, Jack managed to look at her face. She had reached her arm back around to bury her hand in the King's long hair, and was kissing his neck. She turned dark blue eyes at him, a delicate eyebrow raised. Jack licked his lips.

"Please," he whispered, voice cracking. "May I see your cu—cunt?"

Slowly she smiled, a seductive curving of her lips that had Jack seeing stars before she grabbed him by his shirt and hauled against her body. He groaned at the feel of her bare breasts crushed against chest and whined when she kissed him, her mouth open and so, so wet. She sucked on his tongue and he jerked, coming in his pants so hard he almost passed out. She kissed him through his orgasm, rubbing her tongue against his while her hand rubbed at his crotch until his cock stopped spitting out his seed.

"Hnggh," he groaned once she let go of his mouth, his brain feeling like it had leaked out of his ears. Distantly he heard soft laughter, but wasn't aware of anything until he suddenly found himself sitting in the middle of the bed.

The Lady herself was sitting at the front of the bed before him, her back resting on the elaborate headboard. Her gown had pooled around her waist, the rich red fabric a wonderful contrast to the pale cream of her skin. Her pale blonde hair was down, curling in thick tendrils around her shoulders. Her large breasts shone wetly in the light.

Wet from my mouth, Jack realized with a start, and felt his cock try to get hard again.

"The Lady just gave you permission to see her cunt," the King said, his voice coming from the shadows. "Go ahead and see what she has for you under her skirts."

His hands shaking, he reached out and clumsily grabbed at the slick, expensive cloth, lifting it jerkily to her waist. He sat back and gulped, staring. Her long, shapely legs were covered in white silk stockings that ended in a pretty lace band at her thighs. They were pressed together and bent demurely beside her body. He could see a triangle of white lace covering her down there.

"Fuck…" Jack said, reverently.

"You'll need to take off that pretty bit of lace between her legs." The King sat down beside his Lady and casually raised a hand to palm one breast, lifting its weight and thumbing the nipple.

"R—right," Jack said. The Lady gracefully extended both legs straight out and up, resting her ankles over one of his shoulders. Hesitantly Jack ran his hands up her legs, his callused hands snagging on the fine silk, until he reached her hips. Her skin was so soft and so white against his rough, browned hands. Gently he grabbed at the lace and pulled, staring at the perfect, smooth patch of skin he'd revealed all the while he got the delicate lingerie off her legs.

Once he had them off, she pulled back her legs to their original position, almost coyly.

It was then that Jack noticed that the lace in his hands was… "Oh holy hells," he whispered. It was so, so _wet_.

"Ah," the King said, noticing the Lady's closed legs. "Sometimes my angel needs a little coaxing." Jack watched helplessly, his cock hardening again, as the King turned her head for a deep, open-mouthed kiss. "Open your legs, my dear, let him see your pretty, wet cunt."

Slowly, so slowly, she spread her legs until they were splayed, knees bent, and Jack could see… _everything_.

It was… it was…

"Lovely," the King murmured. "Come closer, boy, and take a look." Jack swallowed thickly and did as he was told, his eyes on her… place. "Have you ever seen a cunt before? No? Ah, then you quite lucky then, because this one in particular is especially pretty. See this? This is her labia." He reached out a large, brown finger and touched one side of her cunt delicately, at the edge, pulling it back to open it so Jack could see inside. "The lips of her cunt. See how pink they are, how wet she is inside? Tell me what you see, Jack."

The Lady was panting, her limbs trembling. Jack licked his lips and said: "she, she looks really _wet_, um, and her c—cunt is very—" he broke off, surprised, as he saw it suddenly twitch and flutter, the walls inside clenching rhythmically, like a little greedy mouth. He saw more clear fluid leak out of her, almost in a rush. The Lady gasped, her breasts shaking with her shuddering breaths. "What…"

The King chuckled. "She liked you looking at her, I think." He kissed her neck. "Here, you should see this next." He touched his finger to her again, but drew it up, almost at it's top. He used his thumb and forefinger to separate the shining wet skin and out peaked…

"This is her clit," the King murmured, holding her open so Jack could see the little, swollen, red nub. "You've heard of it, yes? Good. My angel likes having it played with, like this…" He touched the exposed nub with his finger, gently rubbing and flicking at it until suddenly the Lady screamed, arching her back and panting, her cunt clenching and twitching and becoming more wet. "Put your fingers inside her, now," the King ordered and Jack obeyed, sticking his fore- and middle-fingers inside the Lady, feeling the slick, warm walls clench and grip his digits, the flesh clinging to him.

He whimpered. Could he really put his cock in there? Will she let him?

After she stopped shuddering, she looked at him, at Jack with his fingers still stuck inside her, and licked her lips. Jack's mouth went dry.

The King kissed her cheek. "Well done, angel, was it nice?" She turned her head and kissed him, little tongue licking into his mouth for a moment. Awkwardly, Jack pulled out of her, his fingers making a wet sound as it left her. "Well," the King said, turning to him, "do you want to fuck her?"

Jack gulped. "Ye—yes, Sire."

"Ask her then."

"May I," Jack said, licking his lips and looking at her beautiful, flushed face, "fuck you, Lady?"

In answer, she knelt forward, pushing him to lie down. Jack stared at her hovering over him, his cock so hard in his pants, and saw her grab her ruined dress and pull it over her head, naked now except for her white stockings. She looked even more beautiful like this: kneeling over him with her full breasts, her small waist, her long legs on either side of his hips and between them her pink, wet cunt.

Jack whimpered as she opened his pants and took out his hard cock, already covered with the seed he spent earlier. She gripped him for a moment, moving her hand up and down so he couldn't help but thrust his hips up. Then, without warning, she sank onto his cock.

Jack yelled and bucked, spilling his seed immediately at the feeling of her around him. "I, I'm so—sorry," he stammered, humiliated, but she put a finger on his lips and kept her cunt on him, and he felt her clench deliberately around him, swiveling her hips back and forth until… "Ungh," Jack groaned, feeling his cock harden inside her. It hurt a little, and made him dizzy; he'd never experienced getting hard again so fast after coming before.

Then she started to ride him.

Jack moaned, gripping the sheets beside him, as she moved up and down his cock, the most extraordinary, most magnificent feeling of his entire life. All he could see were her breasts bouncing above him, her hands fondling them as she rode him; all he could hear were her gasping breaths and the wet, sucking sounds of her cunt on his cock… his entire world was her.

"What," Jack gasped, as he could feel his climax overtaking him, "you—your name, Lady. What's your—ung!—your name?"

She grinned, body collapsing over his, hips still moving up and down, and brought her mouth to his ear, her hair hiding them from the world.

"_Sylvanas_."

The name echoed in his mind and he yelled as his body disintegrated in the most intense pleasure imaginable. His hips thrust up, his seed pumping and pumping into her wonderful, beautiful cunt…

His world went dark.

XXX

Sylvanas threw her head back, hair flying, spine arching, breasts thrust out in a very pretty display for Wrynn. She climbed off of the boy's cock, the wet sound loud and obscene in the quiet room, and walked to where the King sat on a chair, his hard cock in his hand, her hips swaying languidly with each step.

He watched her, his eyes on her breasts, her waist, at the seed of another man trickling down her thighs. She stopped in front of him and raised one foot on the seat beside his leg, letting him see the boy's ejaculate leak thickly from her quim. She touched herself, playing with her clit and thrusting her fingers into her—through the white mess already there—and made herself climax, watching his eyes watching her all the while, his hand leisurely pulling at his cock.

She dropped to her knees at his feet and brushed his hand away, immediately putting her mouth on him, humming in pleasure at the large, solid weight—finally—on her tongue. It was almost too much to hold in her mouth. How _wonderful_.

"Is he dead?" Wrynn asked, petting her hair.

She pulled off and licked at his glans. "No," she said, "just unconscious." She licked down the thick column of his cock and took first one ball, then the other, into her mouth.

"Shouldn't be long, now."

"Mm," Sylvanas purred, unconcerned—the silly boy got more than what he deserved, in her opinion.

"Still, it's a shame," Wrynn said, then grunted as she took him entirely down her throat, humming. He climaxed shortly, and Sylvanas swallowed around him before pulling off and climbing onto his lap.

Wrynn's fingers obligingly went to her quim, playing with her. For long minutes the room was filled with the sounds of their kisses, and Wrynn's fingers cleverly fucking into her.

"You can send him to the druids in Darnassus, if you feel that badly about it," Sylvanas said absently, shivering through another orgasm.

Then she suddenly found herself deposited on the chair, alone, while the stupid, idiotic King shouted for his mages.

XXX

Later, Sylvanas sat in front of the vanity in her room, the little maid from this morning brushing out her newly washed again hair. She yawned, feeling odd about it as she hadn't yawned since her death, and savored the quiet ache between her legs. She hadn't felt this sexually satisfied in… a very long time.

The door opened and Wrynn walked in. He waved a hand, dismissing the maid from the room.

"The Archdruid Fandral says the boy will live," he said as soon as they were alone. "However, his body will take several weeks to fully recover and, as a result of the poison in his brain, his memories of the last month are completely gone."

Sylvanas quirked a brow. "How unfortunate for him," she murmured. And fortunate as well, she thought, she need not send one of her own rogues to kill him.

Wrynn smiled and picked up the ivory handled brush and ran it down the length of her hair. "Thank you, angel."

"For what?"

He shook his head and bent to kiss the crown of her head. "Just, thank you." He put down the brush and locked his eyes with hers through her mirror. "Sleep in my bed tonight."

She felt her breath become suspended in her living lungs. "Yes," she said softly, and gave her his hand.

XXX


	4. Chapter 4

xxx

Royal Quarters

Undercity

Horde Territory

Areiel looked up as the Banshee Queen emerged from her private rooms. _The Human King must be especially endowed and skilled_, the Dark Ranger thought as she watched the Lady Sylvanas stride purposely towards her, _I have not seen such satisfaction in the Queen's body since the last time she had decided to participate in one the Dark Rangers' revelries, many, many years past._

And, if Areiel remembered correctly, it had taken four of her sisters to satisfy their Queen so, that time.

"Areiel," Sylvanas greeted as she joined her on the dais.

"My Queen," Areiel bowed and moved to let Sylvanas take her proper place.

"You have been absent for long periods of time these past few days, Lady," the Kor'kron Captain growled, "what scheme are you plotting?"

The Queen raised an imperious brow at this rudeness. "I do not answer to you, Bragor. You overstep yourself."

Bragor scowled. "The Royal Apothecary—"

"My business has nothing to do with the Society," Sylvanas said. "If your delicate sensibilities are so disturbed, Captain, you are welcome to relay your worries to the Warchief."

The Orc tensed, fist gripping his war axe. The air in the room froze as they waited for his reaction.

Then the Queen sighed, impatient, waving her hand to forestall whatever he was about to say. "Oh unruffle your feathers, Orc. I sense that this unusually combative demeanor of yours is a symptom of both frustration and boredom. It has been too long since you or any of your men have found release in battle, buried as watchmen here in the Undercity."

Sylvanas caught Areiel's eye and inclined her head, silently asking a question. Areiel considered what her Queen was proposing. She looked at the confused, battle-scarred Orc Captain, and licked her lips. His hands looked almost monstrously large, and she imagined his tongue would feel wonderful stretching open her ass.

She turned back to the Queen and smiled. She had not seen Sylvanas in a mood like this in an age. No matter what her reservations regarding the Lady's current pet project might be, she cannot help but be grateful for this, the lightening in the Banshee Queen's soul.

"It is decided," Sylvanas said again to the Orc. "Go with Areiel and she will fuck the bad temper from your blood." Bragor's mouth fell open in shock; it was most comical. "After, you can arrange among yourselves a rotation between your men and my Dark Rangers, who would also appreciate the opportunity to ease some of their own tedium. Do the Blood Elves desire the same agreement?" She asked the Ambassador from Silvermoon.

Sunsorrow smiled and bowed slightly. "As the Dark Lady knows, we are remarkably self-sufficient in this regard… however, I would not object to allowing my people the chance to observe—and the option to participate."

"Done," Sylvanas said easily. She nodded to Areiel, who understood she only had perhaps four hours, maybe less, to convince the Orc of the wisdom of such a proposition. _As if I would even need that long_, she thought with a smirk.

"Come, Bragor," she said, smiling at the Orc Captain, amused at his flushed face and his involuntary arousal. "It's time you were shown the delights of the Dark."

She left the room, and felt the Orc reluctantly trail after her, his eyes on her swaying hips.

xxx

Stormwind Castle

Stormwind

Alliance Territory

Sylvanas opened her eyes to sunlight, and a large male hand trailing down her side.

"You sleep like the dead, angel," Wrynn said, voice rough with sleep as he sprawled beside her, naked save the sheet draped lightly over his hips. Sylvanas spared an appreciative look at the hard, gladiator's body, at the myriad of scars on his skin and the long dark hair spread over the white sheets.

She sat up, letting the sheet fall from her body, and arched her back in a luxurious stretch, yawning, raising her arms high over her head and tilting her face to the ceiling. A callused palm cupped her breast, rough finger gently rubbing the nipple. Without a word she pushed Wrynn on his back and straddled his hips, exhaling on another yawn that ended in a soft gasp as she took his morning erection inside her.

She rode him, her movements slow and unhurried, relaxed as she took her pleasure on his cock. Unlike the silly boy the previous night, the man under her knew how to let a woman ride, his hips rising to meet hers while letting her set the pace, an accommodating thumb on her clit and one hand on her hip to steady her as she undulated her body above his.

Knowing how much he liked to look, Sylvanas raised her arms and speared her fingers through the curls of her hair, arching her neck, letting Wrynn have a good show. He chuckled, low, and the two of them shared a thoroughly pleasant orgasm a few minutes later.

_An acceptable way to begin the day_, Sylvanas thought, as Wrynn gently lifted her off his cock. He rose from the bed, washed himself efficiently from a basin of water, and began to don his armor. On a whim Sylvanas followed him, entirely comfortable in her nakedness, and played the squire: securing the buckles of his greaves, adjusting the fit of his vambraces and gloves, making sure his pauldrons rested properly across his shoulders. She ran a curious hand over the belt of Anduin Lothar, and Wrynn put a hand under her chin, tilting her face to him.

"I did not think they would attack you," he said, softly.

Sylvanas frowned. _Do you think I would be so weak as to be felled by a single rogue?_ She wanted to ask. _I have laid waste to entire squadrons of your men, foolish Human_.

"Do not concern yourself," she said instead. "After all, there was no harm done."

He considered her silently for a moment, then bent his head to kiss her lips. "I suppose you would be gravely offended if I told you I will crush those who dared lay a hand on you?"

Sylvanas said the first thing on her mind. "Chivalry is an insult to any real woman. Destroy your enemies for your own reasons, King."

He smiled at her, an odd light in his eyes, but a knock at the door pre-empted whatever he was to say next. Quickly he grabbed the robe she shed last night and swung it over her shoulders. "Enter," he said, as Sylvanas belted the robe around her waist.

An anxious looking squire and her nervous little maid entered together, then started upon seeing her standing with the King. "Oh!" the maid exclaimed. "You're here, my lady—I was so worried when I saw your bed empty…" the silly girl trailed off, awkwardly. Belatedly, the two servants bowed to their sovereign.

Wrynn nodded to them then said to Sylvanas, "I expect to be cloistered with my advisers all day, and they might not take so kindly to more interruptions as they did yesterday, my dear. You are free to go wherever you wish in the keep, and spend your time as you will." He raised a brow at her, and Sylvanas nodded her understanding: she will see what she can uncover regarding the attacks… in addition to her own mission, of course. Then, he added, "I am entertaining a group of nobles tonight for dinner. It would please me for you to be my companion."

"Certainly," she murmured. Wrynn sketched a bow and left.

Her maid cleared her throat once the King had departed. "I will be back shortly with your dress, my lady."

Sylvanas steeled herself to spend another day as a silly Human female. It was fortunate that Wrynn's cock was so pleasing, or else this charade would be completely unbearable.

xxx

Sylvanas walked down the halls of the castle, smiling inanely at the Humans she passed, while inwardly she considered her options.

Unfortunately, her notoriety as the King's bedmate ensured that there were too many eyes on her to have the freedom to search for the information that she needed herself. Even if Wrynn had granted her carte blanche in this place, the seat of Alliance leadership, it would be foolish of her to be noticed disappearing at suspicious intervals, or displaying interest in matters she should not. She would have to make use of other means of uncovering secrets.

There was the serving class that could be trusted to have the most gossip in both breadth and scope, and the ability to ferret out information with relative ease, but servants were tricky creatures. Like horses, one has to earn their life-long loyalty to be assured they wouldn't turn against you at the most inopportune moment, throwing you off and leaving you broken in a ditch. Sylvanas considered the maid assigned to her, and thought that there might be possibility there, but she would have to be careful that the girl did not already owe others her allegiance.

Then there were the courtiers and nobles, and Wrynn's own advisers, who would certainly be more amenable to the standard quid pro quo of court politics, at least those who were corrupt. Sylvanas could trade on her status as the King's favorite… but now, after meeting a selection of them, the idea of being obliged to any of those obsequious toads did not appeal. She would watch them carefully, but will not deal with them directly if at all possible.

Of course she could easily manage to secret one of her own people in the castle to do the work… but her instincts told her it would be a dangerous gambit—after all, not all Humans were insipid and unobservant. As she had so recently learned, it would not do to underestimate your enemies, or overestimate your own subjects.

While she mulled over several possible stratagems, she passed by one of the private training areas and her ears caught the distinctive whistle of an arrow in flight. Idly Sylvanas entered the small courtyard. It was empty save for two figures making use of one of the archery targets: a tow headed boy and his instructor. Silently, she watched the boy competently nock another arrow and, after a moment, let fly.

She did not need to see the target to know that he had missed the bull's eye by perhaps a centimeter or three, to the right.

The instructor, a male Night Elf, inspected the target and sighed. "It is certainly curious. Your form is perfect and your aim is accurate and yet your arrows always land just slightly off center."

The boy looked down at his feet, frowning, then raised his head and nodded. "Thank you, Master Dreol, for your help."

"Perhaps it is because you are Human," the Night Elf continued. "You might want to consider another weapon to specialize in, perhaps a sword."

"Thank you, sir," the youth said again, his voice polite and very even. "But I believe I will keep practicing."

"Very well," the Night Elf said, bowing, then left without another word.

Sylvanas observed Wrynn's son for several more minutes, until there was a ring of slightly off center arrows embedded in the target. When he stopped to inspect his bowstring, his shoulders slumped, she stepped into the sunlight.

"What do you see when you release your arrow?"

He started, surprised, and turned to her voice. "I beg your pardon?"

"When you release your arrow," Sylvanas repeated, standing now where the Night Elf had just been. "What do you see?"

"I see…" the boy frowned, confused. "A target."

Sylvanas took the bow from his hands and, automatically adjusting her stance for its unfamiliar size and weight, smoothly nocked an arrow and hit the target dead center.

She handed the bow back to the boy and said, "Your form may be perfect, and your aim true, but your arrow will always fly along the path of your heart, and with the strength of your will." She raised a brow at his rapt face. "You do not hit your mark because you do not want to.

What do you see when you release your arrow, Anduin Wrynn?"

He stared at the bow in his hands for a long moment. Just as Sylvanas began to turn away, he said, in a rush, "It's just—I don't want to kill anyone."

"Soldiers are not murderers, Prince," she said, looking directly into his eyes. "When you face an enemy, you face a being who has accepted the burden of living—and dying—for that which he fights, just as you have. To deny him the full strength of your power is not mercy, but insult. Now," Sylvanas ordered, "shoot again."

The boy squared his shoulders and nodded. He nocked an arrow, staring intently at the target, and took a deep breath—

The shaft of Sylvanas' arrow splintered into two as his split it right down the middle.

There was a moment of silence, then the Human boy began jumping and cheering, making exuberant noises. "Did you see that? Did you?" he whooped. "Wasn't that _magnificent_?"

"It was adequate."

"It was _brilliant_! Thank you, Lady," he said, fervently, bowing low. "I am Anduin Wrynn—oh but you already knew that—you can call me Andy though." He grinned. "And you are—oh! I know, you must be Lady Emma Grey, are you not?"

Sylvanas inclined her head.

"I knew it," Andy declared. "They all said you were exceptionally beautiful, with blonde hair and blue eyes."

"Did they?" Sylvanas said, not entirely sure how to converse with this boy. She did not normally find herself among children. The serious student-archer a few minutes ago was much less disconcerting.

"Yes. They also said…other things," he continued, rolling his eyes. "But I have now decided those must not be true."

Sylvanas tilted her head, considering. "I can't imagine they would say such things to you, the Crown Prince."

He rolled his eyes again, more extravagantly this time. "Of course not, but they never see me—unless I want them to—and even though I'm Prince they still consider me a child," he said with a frown. "They all think I don't know what they're talking about, but I do."

Sylvanas would like to know who 'they' were.

Then she thought: _ah, of course_.

"Well, it was a pleasant impromptu lesson," she said, "I must be off now, I wish you luck in your archery." She bowed and was only four steps away when the boy called out:

"Wait!"

Sylvanas turned, brows raised in inquiry. "Can you—You seem to be much knowledgeable in the art of the bow," the boy said, clearing his throat. "Would you be amenable to imparting more of your knowledge? To me, I mean?" At her continued silence, he started to fidget. "I, ah, can't offer you much in return, though…"

"I am new to the court," Sylvanas said. "I'm afraid much of my time will be spent acquainting myself with the various minutiae of this society. It will not leave me much time for archery lessons."

Andy chewed his lip for a second before blurting, "Well, I can help with that! What if I should tell you everything you need to know—will you teach me then?"

Sylvanas' smile was entirely sincere. "I believe we have an agreement, Andy."

xxx

Wrynn was sitting in her room, a chalice of wine in one hand, when Sylvanas' maid ushered her in to dress for dinner.

Sylvanas had gone with the girl reluctantly, having spent a relatively agreeable several hours with the young Prince. The child was a font of information about the court, and was clearly hungry for a willing ear to listen to his stories. She would have to think carefully over the information he'd so innocently supplied before taking action.

He was also proving to be a promising archer.

For now, she was content to let the new knowledge she'd gathered lie in the back of her mind… and this dinner might prove useful in confirming some recent theories.

Sylvanas quirked a brow at Wrynn as he waved one hand lazily, eyes hooded and oddly difficult to read, motioning for the little maid to go ahead with her duties. Nervously the girl's hands went to the laces of Sylvanas' gown, her round face beet red the whole time. Sylvanas idly observed the man's eyes through her dressing mirror as he watched her undress, his gaze lingering on each new patch of skin revealed.

The maid's hands froze upon reaching to remove her underthings, panicked eyes going to the King. _Save me from Human prudery,_ Sylvanas thought and shimmied out of the small scraps of lace herself, well aware of Wrynn's eyes on her bent ass as she slid the drawers down her legs. Her maid squeaked.

"Leave us," Wrynn said, putting his drink down. "I will help dress the Lady Emma."

"But—but," the maid stuttered as her eyes flew between Wrynn and Sylvanas who now stood naked before the open doors of her armoire deciding on what to wear that night. "Um… What about my lady's hair?"

"I'd prefer to see it down, I think," Wrynn said. "Go. She will have no further need of you tonight."

The maid scurried from the room just as Sylvanas pulled out two dresses from the armoire, holding them up beside her body as she turned to face Wrynn. "The blue one," he said after a moment. Sylvanas put away the other dress and collected the corresponding accoutrements for the blue evening gown, her mind wandering to nights long ago when she and her sisters would help each other dress for balls and soirees.

"You are in a strange mood tonight," she said off handedly. "Have your advisers upset you? More than usual, I mean." She had no real interest in the man's mental well being, of course, but his answer might give her some interesting information.

"Do I look upset?" he asked and sat her down on a chair, kneeling at her feet and delicately rolling silk stockings up her legs. He had pointedly omitted new drawers; Sylvanas hooked her legs behind his neck and drew him to her. He licked at her quim.

"No," she sighed, quivering under his tongue. "But you are."

After her climax Wrynn stood and dressed her quickly, his hands deft and sure on the small buttons of her gown. He placed a kiss on her lips once Sylvanas was fully presentable. "I was just thinking what a cruel and capricious mistress Fate could be," he murmured, smiling into her eyes.

And without another word he led them outside and to the company of waiting nobles.

xxx

The receiving room sparkled under the light of a dozen chandeliers, and well-dressed nobles conversed sedately with each other. It was all wonderfully urbane, and exceedingly false.

Phineas forced out a laugh at another one of Grey's insipid jokes. The man had grown increasingly insufferable in the last few days since his daughter had managed to capture Wrynn's interest. Gossip about Lady Emma Grey had run rampant from the night of the ball, and fluctuated wildly depending on who you'd ask.

Some said she was part of the assassination attempt and was locked, a prisoner, in the dungeons. No, others opined, she had learned some kind of Night Elf enchantment and had bewitched the King to establish her as his consort. (His wife was more determined than ever to have Prudence study in Darnassus.) And now there was even an absurd rumor going about that the King had secretly married her the other day!

That night found most of the nobles split almost evenly into two camps: those that wanted to see the girl removed from Wrynn's side, and those—mainly enemies of the Carstairs—who were open to this new addition to the court. In any case there was one fact everyone here was aware of, and that was that Wrynn's preoccupation with Emma Grey was a harbinger of change—monumental change—in their King.

The majordomo announced the King's entrance and the assembled guests turned to the doors as they opened to admit their sovereign—and his escort.

Phineas knew he was not the only one to suck in a shocked breath. The picture they presented was disturbingly… regal.

While Wrynn looked the same as ever, their gladiator king, it was Emma Grey that drew their eyes. She _fit_. She looked as though she was born to stand on the right hand of the King. In a dark blue evening gown shot with gold thread, with her hand lightly resting on Wrynn's, her face composed and her hair flowing loose down her back, she looked like a bloody _Queen_.

Perhaps more disturbingly, she looked like the rightful consort to the man the Orcs call Lo'Gosh.

Phineas bowed low along with his peers, and could not help but remember the days long ago before Tiffan's death. The gentle young lady was a perfect match to an equally young and besotted King, then. Time and tragedy had hardened the boy out of Wrynn and now he couldn't see the same kind of innocent miss holding the man's hand or capturing his heart. But this Emma Grey, with her lush curves and her blue eyes calm and coolly knowing… by the Light she fit.

Surreptitiously Phineas glanced around as they were ushered into the dining room. Cora Carstairs looked as though she'd swallowed an entire lemon, while beside her the daughter cast increasingly worried glances at Lady Emma's profile. Grey, he was surprised to note, looked the most unsettled out of all of them, and was hiding it badly. Phineas did not think he saw the man's daughter look to him once, which was odd as from what he knew Grey was quite close to his daughter, spoiling her rotten at every opportunity.

Once they were seated in the long table, Phineas was relieved that as usual the King sat at one end while the Dowager Duchess Adeste—a great aunt on his mother's side, who no one liked to speak to as the old harridan delighted in insulting everybody—sat on the opposite end. Lady Emma sat to his right.

Perhaps owing to the already tense undercurrent among the guests, conversation was muted and remained firmly on superficial topics. The King, as was his custom, kept his own counsel and mostly let the idle court chatter wash over him; it was well known that he suffered these dinners for the sake of continued relations with the House of Nobles, nothing more. Meanwhile Lady Emma, Phineas saw, was not inclined to further her own standing amongst the lords and ladies around her as he would have thought. Instead she spoke sparingly, and only when addressed directly, though occasionally she would bring Wrynn briefly into the conversation, and the nobles would draw away with charmed smiles on their faces.

Grey, who was seated near his daughter, looked more at ease now.

"My word," Constance whispered low in his ear. "Lord Grey certainly got his money's worth with his daughter's mentorship with Priestess Leara, didn't he? I do hope he honors his promise to us, even if it doesn't seem like the girl needs our help. And it also looks as though she's recovered completely from her accident."

Phineas could not help but murmur agreement.

It was during the dessert course that trouble started. Lady Carstairs, who had been uncharacteristically silent throughout the dinner, asked Lady Emma: "My dear, I never did hear about your adventures amongst the Night Elves; was it as exciting as I've been told?"

All conversation halted at this, Cora's verbal gauntlet thrown down. Eyes swung first to the King, who looked disinclined to rush to the Lady's defense, then to the Lady herself. Who calmly took another dainty bite of her chocolate cake.

"I'm afraid you will need to be more specific, Lady Carstairs."

"Oh my, did you have many _adventures_ then?"

Lady Emma hummed, thoughtfully. "Not quite. I find I've lost the taste for playing games. It's all so… tedious and petty, don't you think?"

_A point to the young lady_, Phineas thought. Lady Carstairs tittered, thinly.

"My dear, I was only referring to your success in impressing the Night Elves. My friend in Darnassus could not say enough good things about you."

Lady Emma said nothing, just smiled and picked at her dessert. After an awkward pause—and another point in Emma's favor—Cora finally lost her patience.

"He said how charming it was; how interesting to have had the chance to observe a human-high elf half-breed."

Someone gasped. Phineas thought his wife had stopped breathing altogether and down the table Grey dropped his dessert fork, the tinny noise unnaturally loud in the silent room.

Emma raised a brow and took a final bite from her cake. "Yes, and?"

Phineas' jaw dropped at the chit's audacity.

Cora sputtered. "And? And, young lady, I imagine you now have some explaining to do—"

"No, I do not," the younger woman replied calmly. "Though perhaps you should consider apologizing to your King for insulting him at his own table."

"What?"

"Do you honestly think," Emma said, looking directly at the red-faced matron, "that he had not already discovered everything your little spies could have told you? Moreover, the man considers a blood elf as one of his closest friends. Not only have you implied that your King is inept, but that he is also a bigot."

Incensed Lady Carstairs jumped to her feet, her chair skittering back. "Sire! Would you allow such i_mpudenc_e-"

"Thank you, Lady Carstairs," Wrynn said, finally, and Phineas almost could not believe to hear the hint of amusement in his voice. "But as Emma said, I was already aware." Then he and Lady Emma exchanged a glance that spoke volumes… but spoke _what_ precisely Phineas could not even begin to guess.

The silence after Wrynn's pronouncement was profound. Then suddenly a cackle of laughter erupted from the opposite end of the table.

"It's about time, you stupid boy," the Dowager Duchess chortled. The old woman laughed again and pointed her fork at Emma. "You, girl, I approve of. Well done! Hah!"—her fork swung towards Lady Carstairs—"And _you_ sit down, before you embarrass yourself more than you already have."

Cora stiffly regained her seat, and gradually conversation around the table resumed.

Phineas noted that no one glanced at the Carstairs women even once: in one night Emma Grey had crushed and made pariahs out of two of society's most powerful figures.

He watched as the King trailed one finger along the back of Lady Emma's hand.

Suddenly the rumor of the secret marriage did not quite sound so absurd.

xxx

Thanks for the reviews, folks. Much appreciated.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry for the (long) wait...

Edited: Jan. 5, 2011

XXX

Stormwind Castle

Stormwind

Alliance Territory

"Emma, by the Light, I must apologize for such—that I never told you—your mother and I never wanted… we loved each other, though we knew such love was… and we were so, so happy to have you—"

Sylvanas pasted an appropriately sympathetic expression on her face and impatiently waited for the man to stop blubbering. She hoped it would not go on for much longer. The Human had actually started crying. It was most off putting.

The two of then sat in an empty parlor after her 'father' asked Wrynn to allow them some privacy following the dinner. Soon after the man confessed the whole affair. Grey had tried to keep this fact a secret not only from the public, but also to Emma, as her mother had died a year after her birth and before their relocation to Stormwind.

Sylvanas reasoned the rest: Grey, being magically null, thought for the lie to continue indefinitely considering that Emma had been born physically indistinguishable from Humans and displayed no predisposition to magic. But, as one who actually knew anything about magic would expect, the Night Elves were able to sense what Elvish blood Emma had after the girl spent many months in their territory, her body absorbing Teldrassil's energies. They must have confronted her, most likely shortly before she was due to leave Darnassus.

Sylvanas wondered if part of the reason for the girl's mental death was knowing she had been lied to by her father all her life. Humans can be such delicate creatures after all, their psyches so easily damaged.

She was annoyed at not piecing the clues together sooner. After the initial examination of the body, she had not thought much beyond it being a convenient vessel for her consciousness. She should have known, from the ease it had accepted her magic, that there was something else.

When the Carstairs woman had confronted her, she had quickly assimilated the new information and essentially bluffed—trusting that whatever spies Wrynn had sent were able to uncover the same information. His calm reaction to the woman's ravings provided enough incentive to follow through.

Sylvanas was displeased; she did not like overlooking particularly important details. She _should_ have had the identity of Emma Grey fully investigated by her own spies… but, with the betrayal of Putress and Varimathras still so fresh in her mind, she had chosen to limit the number of people aware of her activities and gambled instead that the girl would have lived a thoroughly mundane Human life. Tonight that gamble turned sour though fortunately not disastrous.

However, perhaps more troubling was that Wrynn had known of this and kept quiet. Regardless of his benevolent attitude, this body's mixed blood will have political ramifications within the court, if not the kingdom, and it was disturbing that Sylvanas did not have an inkling that he'd discovered such information about her. It might be that this was what upset him earlier that night, but he could also have discovered it the day before, when he came in contact with the druids… or he could have lied and in fact had _not_ known.

If nothing else, this proved that Wrynn should not be underestimated.

It was very fortunate that there was no one that could unmask her.

Truly, he was a worthy adversary.

"—my dear?"

Sylvanas blinked from her musing. Apparently Grey was finished rambling. "Yes, thank you Father. But as you saw, there was no harm done."

"Yes, it turned out surprisingly well… better than I could have ever hoped. You handled Cora's attack wonderfully. I suppose every parent must one day face the fact that their child has grown, but still I was unprepared to see you so… well, you looked beautiful tonight, Emmy-girl." He cleared his throat, finally composing himself. "I will do my best to suppress any… unpleasantness, resulting from tonight's mishap. We might not have a lineage stretching back to the First War, but I finance over half of the businesses in this city—I hold not a little sway, myself."

Sylvanas smiled and the garishly dressed man kindly patted her hand. "I am, of course, gratified to see you settled so well in court," he said haltingly, face turning spectacularly red. "I know there are those who consider me negligent for allowing my unwed daughter to be drawn into such an arrangement with our monarch... but I trust that you will tell me if—if you are unhappy, won't you? Your mother and I only wanted the best for you… and Wrynn does not, ah, exactly have a, er, _gentle_ air about him."

"Do not concern yourself," Sylvanas said, wanting nothing more than to end this interminable conversation. "I am quite satisfied."

Grey appeared to choke on air. "Right. Right. Well, I'm glad to hear that… yes." Awkwardly he stood. "Now, if there's nothing more, I should head home."

"Good night, Father." Sylvanas rose then said offhandedly, "And please, do keep me apprised of any… new developments in town. I think it's about time I expressed an interest in our investments, don't you think?"

Grey clapped his hands once, then smiled widely. "You've always taken more after your mother, with her gentle heart and indifference to the more practical things in life." He laughed. "But I knew it was just a matter of time before your father's blood will out." He kissed her soundly on the cheek and said, "rest assured I will tell you anything of interest I happen across, my dear."

XXX

Instead of her own suite, her maid showed her directly to the King's chambers. Wrynn sat at his escritoire, out of his armor and reading a book. Penny led her to the attached bath where an extremely large sunken marble tub was already full of hot, scented water.

Sylvanas sighed and stretched once in the bath. "I'll bathe myself, thank you," she told her maid. "You are dismissed." There was a distracting amount of tension emanating from the silly girl—a result of the night's contretemps, Sylvanas was sure—and it was spoiling her pleasure in this luxury. _What an unfortunate tendency these Humans have_, she thought as she submerged herself and swam the short distance to the other end, _of worrying over useless things_.

She took a wide toothed ivory comb and gently ran it through her hair, letting the strands float as they liked along the water. In this particular dance, she had decided that Wrynn can lead; she will not debase herself by spouting excuses or currying his favor with sweet words or kisses. After all, it was certainly true that she had _not_ known of this body's half-blood status until this evening; there was nothing to apologize for.

She sensed Wrynn enter the bath on silent feet and settle comfortably on the marble floor. "Would you like some mulled wine?"

Putting aside the comb, Sylvanas glided to him and propped her elbows on the lip of the tub, shivering as her breasts touched the cool marble of the floor. Wrynn tilted his goblet to her lips and they spent languorous minutes alternating sips of the warm drink. "I will not ask questions that will force you to lie," he murmured finally.

His eyes were gentle and infinitely inscrutable as he smiled at her, and for the first time since this charade began Sylvanas felt within herself a seed of doubt. However, she was not the Forsaken's Queen for nothing.

She licked her lips, tasting bittersweet wine, and smiled; she raised herself up and Wrynn bent, meeting her halfway in a chaste kiss. A promise sealed.

_Games within games,_ Sylvanas thought, where not even the players themselves knew all the rules… or the stakes.

_What absolute **fun**_.

Later Sylvanas found herself, damp and naked, pressed against one of Wrynn's floor to ceiling windows, her panting breaths fogging the glass and her nipples peaked and aching as they rubbed on the cold pane. Below she could see two sentries as they patrolled the dark gardens. If they chanced to look up, would they see her, she wondered, as their King slowly buggered her open with an oiled taper and her own fingers plunged themselves into her cunt.

Wrynn put a hand on her breast and leaned to whisper, "What a marvelous picture you make. I don't think I can wait much longer. Are you ready for my cock?" He pinched a nipple just as she pressed two fingers on her clit.

"_Yes_," Sylvanas gasped, shivering through an orgasm that threatened to buckle her knees.

He pulled the taper from her ass and she had a moment to savor the sensation of oil dripping out of her hole before Wrynn pressed something much, much larger against it. Sylvanas moaned.

"Bear down, angel, and let me in."

Sylvanas tossed her head back in a scream as Wrynn thrust in, her ass spasming on his length. He pressed her fully against the window, pinning her with his weight, and fucked her.

She had no leverage, no way to buck into his thrusts; she could only gasp and stare unseeing, her fingers rubbing her clit as she took his cock again and again.

"I think," Wrynn grunted into her ear, "I will bind you, next time. Would you like that? Unable to move, only able to open your pretty legs for man and his cock," Sylvanas whimpered, shuddering, "maybe—two men, or three?" Sylvanas jerked, climaxing hard. "Yes," Wrynn continued through gritted teeth as she felt him empty his balls inside her, "yes, angel, just like that."

After a moment Wrynn kissed her flushed neck and disengaged, then picked her up and gently placed her on his bed. Sylvanas still found it amusing to experience such gallantry from a man who'd personally tried to kill her countless of times. Idly she watched him retrieve a washcloth. "Not the nobles, then," she said.

He looked up and quirked a brow. "No," he confirmed. He sat beside her and ran the warm cloth around her thighs and hips. Sylvanas turned over and bent one knee up, presenting her wet cunt and ass. "The safeguards I have in place prevent them from gathering and consolidating power without my knowledge," he said easily, carefully rubbing the cloth over her. "Also, with the successes in Northrend still fresh in their minds, they know better than to challenge me now."

"The clergy," Sylvanas murmured, voicing aloud her suspicions for the first time.

Wrynn tossed aside the cloth. "Mm, but which one?" he asked, pulling her into his arms.

Sylvanas dug a nail in his bare arm. "Don't play coy, it doesn't suit you."

Wrynn chuckled. Sylvanas mulled over the information in her head, especially revisiting her experience in the Cathedral the other day.

"Do you know how deep this goes?"

"Nothing for certain, yet."

_Which means_, Sylvanas thought, _that if he acts now all he will catch are a few scapegoats while sacrificing a not inconsiderable amount of political clout._ "They will need to grow more bold then," she concluded, "and show their hand."

"You sound like you have a plan."

"When will you send out the soldiers to rout this supposed new Defias threat?"

"I finished drafting the order tonight; it goes out tomorrow."

"They will assume that this capitulation is a direct result of the attack against me."

Wrynn grinned. "Yes, punishment for daring to touch my lady."

"Such chivalry, Sire, you make me blush."

"Impossible," Wrynn said. "I've never met a more shameless woman."

_Or Elf, I wager_, Sylvanas thought, closing her eyes.

XXX

Royal Quarters

Undercity

Horde Territory

Areiel bowed upon seeing Sylvanas. "My Lady." Bragor, Sylvanas was amused to see, almost bowed himself before arresting the movement.

Sylvanas nodded her greeting and said, "Send for Nathanos and the Spy Mistress from Venomspite; I wish to know what exactly those vermin from the Scarlet Onslaught are plotting."

"At once, my Queen," Areiel said and quickly left.

"What is this about the Scarlet scum?" Bragor growled, his eyes reluctantly following the Dark Ranger for a moment. Sylvanas considered him and noted the more relaxed slope of his shoulders, and the general air of quiet satisfaction that surrounded him and his two lieutenants.

"Your demeanor is much improved, Captain," she murmured, lips curling slightly. "I trust the recent arrangement is to your liking?"

The seasoned Orc blushed like a whelp in short pants. "Excellent," Sylvanas said, pre-empting whatever stuttering response he was about to make. "As for the Scarlet Onslaught," she continued, "I've recently received intelligence hinting at a possible new threat coming from that quarter."

"A threat to the Horde?" Bragor asked, brow furrowed.

"Perhaps," Sylvanas said, shrugging.

"They'd be fools to attempt anything so soon after our people have decimated their ranks in Northrend."

"Zealots are rarely rational," Sylvanas said softly, considering_. But they do need a leader_. A scheme as ambitious as the one they are engaged in—if the Scarlet Onslaught is indeed the power behind the attacks against the Human crown—requires exceptional leadership.

_With the deaths of Abbendis, Westwind and Landgren_, _I wonder, then, who controls them now._

XXX

Notes: Thanks to all the reviews that would remind me that I have this thing left unfinished... without them I probably would have forgotten all about this LOL. (I stopped playing WoW so the inspiration had dried up, so to speak.)


	6. Chapter 6

Last Edit: September 4, 2011. (I made the two Blood Elves sisters. Because yes, I'm that big a pervert.)

XXX

Old Town

Stormwind

Alliance Territory

_Another fine day to be a rogue_, Tony Romano thought cheerfully as he made his way through Old Town's morning bustle, easily weaving in and out of the crowd to reach SI:7's headquarters.

"A good morning to you, Harry."

"Morning Tony," the guard raised his spear in reply. Whistling, Tony hooked a left at the courtyard, past the training dummies where an ambitious rogue-in-training was practicing her rotation and looking a bit frustrated about it.

"Time your attacks properly and don't rush," he called out. "Patience is key."

She looked up and smiled, bowing. Tony watched her take a few deep breaths before trying again, this time making sure not to rush her movements. Tony nodded his approval and ducked into the building.

"Good morning, my lady Sloan," Tony greeted as soon as he entered. "You're looking especially lovely this day."

"Save it, Tony, the boss wants to see you." The poison seller threw him a small pouch. "Your latest order."

"Feels a little light."

She smirked. "You're not my only customer."

"Ah, but I'm your _favorite_ customer," he said, grinning.

"_Lord _Romano. You ready to see Shaw or you want to keep flapping your gums?" That squeaking sarcastic voice was unmistakable. Tony turned to grin at the goblin he liked to call 'The Terrible Terror' in his head.

"Renzik, still as—"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, quit your blabberin'," the goblin snapped. "You're makin' Shaw wait."

With a wink at Sloan Tony followed the goblin up the stairs where Shaw sat at his usual table, a set of knives in front of him.

"Sir."

Mathias Shaw didn't look up from the blade he was cleaning. "New orders, Tony. We're to drop the investigation on Daffodil."

Well, that was unexpected. "Officially?"

"And unofficially."

"Is that wise?"

Shaw flipped the dagger in his hand, testing its balance. "You know as well as I do: we never—"

"—question orders," Tony finished, running a hand through his hair. "Right. But sir… he's only known her for _two days_."

"He's in his right mind."

"Despite evidence to the contrary? I saw how he was with her last night. And I heard about the new orders against the Defias this morning. We both know the Defias is not behind the attacks."

Shaw leaned back on his chair and regarded Tony with a steady eye. "Pull back your men. The Daffodil case is closed."

Slowly Tony nodded. "Understood."

Shaw got up and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "You should have more _faith_ in our sovereign, Romano," he said with a genial smile.

Tony blinked, then returned Shaw's smile. "You're right, of course."

"Is that her?" the goblin squeaked.

The two men turned to Renzik standing by the window. They joined him to look at the training grounds below where a woman in a lovely yellow dress was accompanied by two royal guards and one very familiar youth. Silently, the three rogues watched as the King's son gestured energetically to her, mouth moving constantly. She nodded, listening to him intently, and then looked up straight at them, her face lit by the sun.

_Right mind or not, _Tony thought to himself, _Varian Wrynn definitely has good taste. _

Renzik grunted. "Not bad for a human, I guess."

Tony and Shaw said nothing; eventually the Lady Emma turned away and followed the crown prince out the grounds and into the streets beyond.

XXX

The Trade District

Stormwind

Alliance Territory

Sylvanas walked into the busy marketplace and tried not to let the boisterous humanity of it all give her a headache. There were adventurers and civilians belonging to all Alliance races around her, laughing, yelling and rough housing. She grimaced in distaste as one drunken dwarf wearing nothing but his dirty underpants ran past, chased by an equally drunk and unclothed gnome.

"Can't catch me, you—hic!—stupid gnome!"

"I can shee your pockmarked assh ahahahahahaha!"

"My lady, perhaps it's time to return to the keep," one of the guards assigned to them suggested anxiously.

"Let's visit the Auction House," Andy said happily, leading the way through the crowd and making their security escort nervous.

"Your Highness—" the guard began but Andy had already darted forward, almost getting run over by a Death Knight on his steed.

"Whoa there!" the heavily armored Knight snapped angrily, calming his skittish horse. "Watch where you're going you—"

Sylvanas moved quickly and put her arm through Andy's, smiling at the Knight. He stopped and stared, eyes glued on her cleavage as she guided Andy around him.

"Do you have anything you wish to purchase?" she asked as behind her the guards prodded the Knight on his way.

"A chopper," he answered promptly, watching as one such vehicle roared around the corner.

Sylvanas quirked a brow. "Anything in the realm of possibility, I mean."

"My riding instructor said that I'm almost ready to handle faster mounts, it's not completely impossible!" Andy laughed and the two of them entered the crowded Auction House together.

While Andy was busy admiring the choppers up for auction, Sylvanas perused the epic weapons and armor available, checking the prices to gauge the health of the economy. She noted that as with the Horde, the Alliance suffered from the same slump now that Icecrown Citadel was conquered and relative peace had again descended upon Azeroth: an imbalance between supply and demand as the general population focused on hoarding wealth instead of spending it. However, she was gratified to note that there were not as many Citadel exclusive items for sale here as there were in Horde Auction Houses.

Just as she was to turn away, her eyes landed on a new auction: the Hurricane, a mid-level epic bow with excellent speed and damage output as well as a charming special attack procedure.

As she considered the smooth arc of the bow's limbs, Sylvanas was reminded of a tradition she had when she had been the Ranger-General of Silvermoon of giving exceptional students well-made weapons to assist in their training. The last person to be favored so was the Alliance Ranger Lord Nathanos… long ago when they were both still among the living.

Quickly she caught the eye of an auctioneer and shortly thereafter was the owner of a new bow.

"Thirteen thousand gold pieces," Andy groaned as he rejoined her. "I think I would have to sell my liver to be able to afford one."

"Why don't you ask your father for it?" Sylvanas asked.

"I would never; the treasury's gold is for the people," Andy said.

Sylvanas nodded absently, distracted. What weak senses she had in this body alerted her to a change in the air. She put her arm around her student's shoulders. "Get down," Sylvanas snapped just as the auctioneer who sold her the bow screamed and fell to the ground, blood quickly spreading on his back.

"What—" Andy gasped.

"It's the Horde!" someone yelled. The Undead rogue that killed the auctioneer cackled joyously as more of her comrades revealed themselves. Pandemonium exploded in the room. "God damn Horde bastards! Die, scum!"

Sylvanas led a protesting Andy out of the building, smirking as she tripped a guard running in to help and causing a small pile of sprawled adventurers at the entryway. She paused at the mailbox and quickly retrieved the Hurricane.

"We have to help them!" Andy said, trying to break from her grip. "Oh, that's a nice bow."

"Thank you. And you are hardly equipped to deal with a raid," Sylvanas said as she shouldered her way through the fighting throng. The battle had spread to the streets. "Your first responsibility is to keep safe, you know this."

"But—"

"Do not mistake recklessness for bravery. Part of being a good fighter is knowing how to choose your battles," Sylvanas said as an Orc barreled his way to them, clumsily swinging a battleaxe. Using the bow as an improvised stave, Sylvanas swiped the attacker's feet from under him and knocked his teeth out as he went down. "This is not your battle."

"Whoa…" Andy said, staring at the unconscious Orc almost three times Sylvanas' size.

"Let's go."

They were able to escape to the canals by hugging the perimeter of the area. Sylvanas held Andy's hand firmly as she ran to the keep.

XXX

Stormwind Castle

Stormwind

Alliance Territory

The sight of the dead guards at the entrance confirmed it: the attack in the Trade District was a diversion; the raid's real target was—

"Father!" Andy yelled, voice breaking.

"Your Highness! Lady Emma!" Gestus said as he joined them, his blade bloodied. "Thank the Light you're both safe. Come with me, the King wants you secure—"

"No! I must help," Andy argued heatedly, yanking his hand from Sylvanas' grasp. "I _must_," he implored her, eyes wide and earnest.

Sylvanas considered him. "You cannot fight," she said, voice flat and brooking no argument. Andy's shoulders slumped. "What else can you do?"

"I can… I can heal," he said, nervous but solemn.

Sylvanas turned to Gestus. "Take the Prince to the infirmary."

"Lady Emma—"

"He will be as safe there as anywhere else in the castle," she said. "Do it." She handed Andy the Hurricane. "Only to defend yourself." Andy nodded, wide eyed.

"I will send someone to protect you," the captain said.

"Do not waste your resources on me," Sylvanas said. "Your priority is your liege lord and the crown prince."

Gestus regarded her for a moment before bowing and taking Andy away. As soon as they were out of sight Sylvanas ducked into the residential wing, moving away from the sounds of battle in the throne room and making her way to Wrynn's private offices. As she expected, there were no guards to see or stop her; every able body was at this moment helping their king fight off the Horde attack.

She went to Wrynn's desk, quickly scanning through the documents there.

There was an analysis on the viability of expansion in the Sholazar Basin for resources, an invitation to the Kirin Tor's leader to visit the castle—_useless diplomatic nonsense, _she thought—and… here Sylvanas paused: several well-read reports regarding unusual weather patterns disturbing Alliance territories and nautical routes. _Why would such a mundane topic interest you so, Wrynn_?

Moving on, she saw the false order to crush the Defias threat and then, hidden in a secret compartment, notes written in Wrynn's hand on the true orders of the squadron sent to Westfall: they are to provide assistance to the militia and general relief and aid to the farmers and settlers cautiously returning to the land.

Her ears pricked as she heard footsteps coming closer. Making a decision quickly, Sylvanas took the Westfall notes, re-sealed the compartment, and hid her body and presence in the adjoining stateroom, keeping the door ajar just enough to have a clear view of the desk.

Bishop Belvedere entered room. As Sylvanas did just minutes ago, he went to Wrynn's desk and conducted a thorough search, quietly laughing over the Defias papers and—Sylvanas observed with interest—also paying particular attention to the weather reports.

Suddenly the sound of distant cheers reached them; it would seem that the Horde attack had been defeated. It certainly took them long enough. Belvedere rushed out of the rooms.

Sylvanas waited a moment more before emerging. She returned Wrynn's notes to their hiding place.

"Find the last of the damned cowards!" a guard yelled from the hallway.

"I saw two of them come down this way!"

Making sure no one saw her, Sylvanas went out the balcony and lightly jumped down, landing in a familiar training courtyard. She brushed off her skirts and made her way to Wrynn's chambers, the idea of a soak in his decadent bath sounding perfectly amenable. The human body had a disgusting tendency to sweat when forced to exert itself.

She loosened her dress and considered Emma Grey's reflection in a mirror. Sylvanas smiled.

Just as she stepped out of her dress to stand in the sheer silk shift she wore underneath, the doors burst open to reveal two panting and disheveled Blood Elf women. Before the next breath the dark haired rogue had her dagger against Sylvanas' neck. Judging by their armor and weapons, they were seasoned fighters. It would be unthinkable for a mere human—even one with mixed blood—to be able to defeat them.

"Move or yell, Human, and I will slit your throat where you stand," she said in accented Common. She turned to the other Elf and hissed, "This is all _your_ fault!"

"I said I'm sorry!" the red headed priest said glumly, spelling gently glowing shields around her and her companion.

"Sorry isn't going to make our probable deaths any less painful," the rogue snapped. "Who in the name of the Sunwell joins a raid without an active hearthstone?"

"But I forgot my favorite staff…"

"Sometimes, I can't believe we're sisters."

"You could leave me," the priest said. "I'm sure your hearthstone is fine."

"I don't trust you enough not to get killed in the twenty minutes you need to wait for your stone to become available."

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. This is what the Blood Elves have come to? _How utterly disheartening_, she thought. They should have killed her on sight. "I'm afraid, ladies, that this is not the wisest room to hide in."

"I said be quiet."

Just then the door opened and the King of Stormwind entered, gore spattered and his two swords still dripping fresh Horde blood. For a long, awkward moment there was complete and utter silence in the room. Sylvanas swallowed down her amusement at the expressions on the Elves' faces. Wrynn himself betrayed nothing save for the surprised tightening of his mouth.

"Hello Your Majesty," Sylvanas said, feeling the prick of the rogue's dagger on her skin with every breath. "How was your day?"

"It could have been better," he replied, low. He shut the door behind him.

The priest gripped her staff tightly and inched closer to her friend. The rogue pressed her blade more firmly upon Sylvanas' neck, forcing her to tilt her head up. "Move and she dies," she said, voice shaking.

Sylvanas met Wrynn's eyes and wondered what the man would do. Would he bargain with members of the detested Horde to somehow save her? Or would he behave true to type and attack, thereby forfeiting his lover's life?

_Quite the interesting conundrum you have here, my dear King_, Sylvanas thought delightedly.

She was, of course, ready to drop her possession as soon as it became necessary to do so should Wrynn decide to attack as she expected him to. With the information she gathered today, she was well satisfied with her investment in this pretense. It had already gone on for too long. Aside from losing all the excellent sex, she would have no qualms about ending it now.

But if he instead chose to negotiate, to betray and contradict everything that he stood for, all for the life of a woman he barely knew… well then Sylvanas should begin making plans to take over the throne herself.

_What will you do, I wonder_.

Wrynn stared at her face for a full minute, the silence stretching as his hands flexed on his swords. The dagger broke skin as the rogue warily stepped back and Sylvanas felt blood trickle down her throat.

Then Wrynn… put his swords aside. Sylvanas' eyes widened in shock—and quickly narrowed in confusion as he shrugged off his cape and pauldrons.

The two Elves shared a baffled look. "Are—are you surrendering?" the rogue asked, stunned.

Wrynn took off his gloves and unbuckled his belt. "I," he said, "am taking a bath. Do whatever you like."

Sylvanas blinked. _What?_

"_What?_" the priest and rogue exclaimed together. "Wait, but—you can't do that!" the priest gasped, affronted.

"I am the King of Stormwind," Wrynn told her, quirking an amused brow. "You'll find that I can." By now he was bare-chested and down to his greaves. The priest's cheeks flushed the same color as her hair.

"What about your woman?" the rogue demanded. Wrynn didn't answer and instead stepped out of sight. A moment later there was the sound of armor falling to the floor followed by a low groan as he presumably entered the hot water.

The three of them stared at the open door he disappeared through. While Sylvanas couldn't speak for the other two, she knew where_ her_ mind was… though from the way she could sense the two Elves' blood start to grow hot she supposed they were all thinking the same thing.

None could say that Varian Wrynn was not virility personified.

"What could he…?" the rogue wondered, alarmed. "Is he trying to trick us?"

The priest worried her lip. "I think it's… interesting. I never knew he was so, so…" she trailed off, her eyes growing soft and distracted.

The rogue's hand slackened, the dagger drooping as she shook herself and gaped at her friend, appalled. "You _cannot_ be serious, Lyral."

"What? I find power attractive!" the priest whispered defensively. "Oh don't look at me like that, I can smell you from here."

"Gods have you _no_ delicacy whatsoever?" the rogue recoiled, blushing furiously. "Pull yourself together. This is the _leader of the Alliance_ we are talking about, not some pretty soldier we can fuck without a thought. Do you not remember the part where we joined a group that tried to _kill_ him just a short while ago?"

Tired of their bickering and feeling slightly dizzy—surely as a result of the poison that managed to enter her blood from the dagger—Sylvanas calmly grasped the rogue's wrist and pushed it away. "I think I will take a bath myself," she said.

Neither stopped her as she left, and their gaze on her was a palpable thing.

Faintly: "She's quite lovely too, isn't she—ouch, Drienne that hurt!"

She found Wrynn sitting at the far end of the pool, eyes closed and leaning back, arms draped easily along the curved marble edge: the picture of a king in repose. Sylvanas stripped the blood-stained shift over her head and entered the steaming water. It was tinted a hazy blue green from medicinal bath salts and oil and felt wonderful on her skin. She dunked her head and glided to his side, ignoring the sting from the cut on her neck.

He cracked open one eye, mouth tilting up minutely. "Hello, angel. How was your day?"

Sylvanas smiled. She could not remember the last time _anyone_ had amused and surprised her so thoroughly with such boldfaced gall. She kissed his bicep where she could see a slight discoloration of a recently healed injury. "It's been particularly… productive."

"Oh? Do tell." Wrynn put a gentle finger to her wound, then his lips. Sylvanas sighed and arched her spine, letting his hands and mouth wander as they will.

"I paid the city a visit," Sylvanas purred.

Wrynn ran a large callused palm down her side. "Mm, yes," he said, guiding her to straddle his lap, "my son showed me your gift when I stopped by to assess the wounded." He touched her chin. "Thank you. That was very kind."

Sylvanas drew back, insulted. "Diligence in training should be rewarded, and development of skill encouraged. It was nothing more than that."

"Of course," he agreed, very seriously. Sylvanas frowned and nipped his jaw.

Like a spark to tinder that sharp little bite seemed to ignite him. A tremor went through Wrynn's body and his hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise.

_Yes. Finally._

Blood. Battle. Death. Magic: the smell of burnt aether. The screams of the wounded and dying. All these invisible, permanent scars that she could taste on his skin, in his mouth.

_Does your soul shiver, as mine does, when your blade pierces their flesh?_

Sylvanas gasped as he, without warning or grace, speared her on his cock. His lust was like a fire, burning her from within. Fucking her like an animal, his thrusts rough and hard, caring nothing for her own pleasure. She let him use her body as he wanted, tightening her cunt around him, raking her nails along his shoulders and back—spurring him on.

_Will this body be enough to satisfy you, King?_

Sylvanas laughed, hiccupping through a climax that he ignored, his eyes black and sex-blind. She threw her head back at a particularly brutal thrust and from the corner of her eye saw the two Blood Elf women standing at the doorway, staring slack jawed and lust flushed.

Sylvanas ran her tongue over her lips, and smiled.

XXX

Note: I apologize. I can't believe I faded to black... I kept wanting to put in the pr0nz, but it just wouldn't happen. Sorry.

Replies to anonymous reviewers (account reviewers I reply to directly):

Yes ur back: LOL yeah... we'll wait and see on that one. (Well, actually I do have this whole thing plotted out. Won't take long now, actually...)

Orangishred: Heh sorry dude but I just don't have the time for it. Or the energy. Glad to know it's still good though.


	7. Chapter 7

Warning: M/F, F/F, age-play. You're welcome.

XXX

Stormwind Castle

Stormwind

Alliance Territory

Lyral woke slowly, aware of a familiar languid satiation in her limbs that signified a night _very_ well spent. She sensed Drienne sleeping beside her, and felt supremely content with life in general. She felt soft light warming her naked skin, luxurious sheets under her body, and a delicious ache at the apex of her thighs. She smiled and stretched, arching her spine and spreading her legs. She ran a lazy hand over her breast and down her stomach until her fingers could play with the sticky wetness at her quim, gently fucking herself and rubbing at her clit. She purred happily, squirming, her mind wandering nowhere at all. She brought her other hand to her mouth, sucking on her fingers and tasting—

A man's seed.

Varian Wrynn's seed.

Lyral's eyes snapped open and her whole body froze in realization: Sunwell's Grace she was in the King of Stormwind's _bed_! She was—he had—

Well, he'd fucked her—all three of them, in fact—quite thoroughly the night before. She remembered _everything_. Oh…

"Don't stop now, watching you is much more pleasant than reading this report."

Lyral gasped in surprise and sat up. King Wrynn sat at a table laden with a generous repast, an open scroll on his knee while his Lady sat beside him nibbling on a red cherry. He was barefoot and bare-chested, his trousers unfastened and loose around his hips. Power and virility emanated from him in waves despite the lack of armor but were more tempered today—the violent near-animalistic lust that fueled the previous night was gone. Or at least well hidden behind an amiable countenance that Lyral had never before seen in the monarch's face.

"Good morning," Lyral said, wishing her voice did not sound so tremulous as it did. After all, the man might seem to be in a good mood right now, but she would be a fool to forget that he could kill her with a flick of one wrist. She did not replace her hand on her sex, but neither did she close her legs.

He liked to look, and Lyral knew she made a very pretty showing, with a thin, tight slit and a small neat patch of red hair above it. Perhaps looking would make him less likely to kill them. He'd liked it well enough last night after all, fucking her so vigorously she had to brace both arms against the headboard while beside them his Lady and Drienne sucked and licked at each other's cunts.

And, oh, just remembering it—the feel of his long, _thick_ cock pumping in and out of her—the two orgasms she had on it that time… now Lyral blushed as she felt herself begin to ache and grow wet in front their amused eyes.

"Good morning, Lyral," his Lady—Lyral did not know her name—said. "And Drienne."

Beside her Drienne stirred, then bolted upright with a gasp, long black hair a mess around her head.

"Do not be alarmed," the Lady continued, "both of you are quite safe—as long as you remain in this room." She took a platter of fruit and walked to the bed. She was only wearing a sheer white robe, unbelted and hanging loose around her body, complementing her blonde coloring and framing her generous breasts and naked quim very well.

She put the platter on the bed. Lyral bit her lip in indecision and glanced at the King under her lashes. He had returned to reading his scroll and was not even paying them any mind. She really shouldn't, but the fruit did look so appetizing…

She took a peach slice.

"Lyral!" Drienne hissed, tugging on a long lock of red hair.

"But I'm hungry," Lyral pouted, and quickly ate the peach. "I don't think he's going to poison us, you know," she added in Thalassian.

"Indeed I won't," King Wrynn replied, also in Thalassian. "I typically prefer more direct methods of dealing with enemies sitting naked in my bed."

Lyral flushed. "Oh, you speak our language?" she asked sheepishly, reverting back to Common.

"One of my oldest friends is a blood elf."

"That's right, I think I have heard something about that," Lyral said, "but I always thought it was only a rumor. I don't pay much attention to Alliance lore."

Drienne groaned, "I cannot believe you are sitting there chatting with the leader of the Alliance." She gave up and grabbed a grape. "I feel like a traitor," she sighed as she chewed.

Lyral rolled her eyes. "Please, as if you weren't screaming yourself hoarse on his cock just hours ago."

Drienne turned red and threw a cherry at her head.

The lady—Lyral really needed to ask her name—hummed in amusement. "You may think of this room as neutral territory. Wrynn has ordered no servant to enter until the morrow, and the castle denizens are too busy setting things to right to bother us. You are free to go whenever you wish."

"Oh," she and Drienne said together.

Lyral bit her lip and knew without looking that Drienne was equally as uncertain. Last night was just so… so _wonderful_ that she wasn't sure if she wanted to leave now when she could spend another day playing with these two so very unique humans.

The King of Stormwind and his Lady! It was too fantastical to be believed. She exchanged a look with Drienne, who nodded.

Smiling, Lyral leaned toward the Lady and shyly touched a finger to her breast, lightly circling a pink aureole. "May we stay for the night? We promise to leave before first light."

The Lady's lush lips curved and she met Lyral for a kiss, their tongues moving slickly against each other. Lyral quietly moaned. This human woman certainly knew what she was about. One would think she'd had centuries to perfect her skills…

The Lady drew away and Lyral saw that Drienne had pressed herself at the Lady's back and was kissing her neck and fondling her breasts. Lyral could understand Drienne's fascination with them: neither had the Lady's full figure and Lyral couldn't help but be slightly jealous. It was very rare for a Blood Elf to be so endowed.

In fact there was only one that Lyral could remember… and, well, she wasn't an elf anymore, either.

"You should approach Wrynn with the question," the Lady suggested as Drienne drew her down to the bed. "I'm certain you can convince him if you try."

Lyral watched as they kissed and caressed, the black and blonde of their hair a stark and pretty contrast against each other. Uncertainly she looked at the King and saw that he now had a ledger open, a steaming mug in hand as he studied it.

"I'm not so sure," Lyral whispered, "he looks busy."

The Lady glanced at him for a moment, then quirked a brow at Lyral. "It's nothing important; he'll be grateful for the distraction." She waved a hand, urging her on lazily. "Go." Then she did something complicated with her legs and had Drienne moaning in lust.

Lyral stood, reminding herself that she was a veteran soldier and not some green fledgling, gathered her courage and crossed the distance to the table. But once at his side she didn't know what to do… should she just ask outright? Lyral bit her lip as she considered the solid muscles of his arms, his wide chest, his scars… and oh, the power that he wielded, and how he held her down last night as he fucked her…

She felt her nipples harden and peak, her breaths coming fast and deep, the ache between her legs intensified but her mouth felt dry… she didn't know what to say, how to—

Oh.

She blinked and looked down. He'd put away the ledger—she didn't even notice—and was now lightly palming the inside of her thigh where it had grown wet from her remembering. His hand looked so brown and large against the whiteness of her skin; it made her dizzy with lust.

He casually took a sip of his drink even as one finger dipped inside her folds. Lyral whimpered.

"You needn't be so nervous, little priest," he said, amused, as he rubbed inside her. "Do you and your sister want to stay here today?"

"Ye—yes," she gasped. He'd spread her labia and Lyral knew he was looking at how the color of her exposed clit matched the color of her pubic hair. "Please."

He hummed, noncommittal. "You are very pretty," he murmured, and rubbed the swollen nub. Not too hard, just enough to—

With a small cry Lyral orgasmed, her eyes closing and knees finally buckling. She felt him catch her and sit her on the table, gently spreading her legs.

Breathing deep, she put a hand to her wet cunt, feeling it tremble under her fingertips. Through slitted eyes she watched as the King sat back in his chair, his gaze intent on her naked body.

"May we?" she asked, confident now in his desire for her. She leisurely stroked her breast—not large and full, but pert and a pleasing handful, she thought. "We want to." Lyral frowned, wishing her voice was more like his Lady's, seductive and lilting, instead of high and breathy. She sounded like a child.

"Come," he said, putting down his drink, "and show me how much."

Lyral smiled and eagerly reached for him, placing her knees outside his and meeting his mouth for a kiss, tasting bittersweet tea. She rubbed her tongue against his and pressed her breasts to his wide chest. Oh he felt so good…

She ended the kiss and fumbled with his trousers, color high on her cheeks. She pulled out his hard cock, biting her lip as she fondled it. It really was so big, so thick… she resisted the urge to measure it with her handspan.

"I really like your cock, Your Majesty," she admitted shyly, wrapping her hands around its girth.

"I noticed," he said, chuckling low.

Lyral ignored him, frowning in concentration as she guided him to her slit, her cunt already so wet and aching deep in anticipation. She lowered herself carefully, a squeak escaping her lips as the head breached her. Panting, she put her hands on his shoulders, her eyes wide and hazy as her whole self focused on the feeling of him stretching her almost beyond bearing. She twitched her hips back and forth, and she could actually feel her walls pulse around his cock to the heavy beat of her heart.

_Oh sweet Sunwell,_ she thought fuzzily, blinking back to herself and finding her fully seated, his hands running up and down her heaving back gently.

He was frowning slightly at her. "You're very tight, little one. I must have hurt you last night."

Lyral blushed. "I'm always tight in the beginning, most Blood Elves are. And we're not quite built for your… proportions," she said. "But we also, um, like the pain… sometimes." She raised and lowered her ass, gasping. "You—you needn't worry—"

She dug her nails in his shoulders and rode, bouncing on his lap, mouth open and crying in time to the pumping of his cock inside her. He put his hands on her hips and she leaned back so he could hit that spot that made her scream, her breasts jouncing with the force of their fucking.

"Ask your question," he ordered, his face hard set.

Lyral tried to blink the sweat from her eyes. "Would—_ah!_—would you—_nngh_—let us sta—_aahh!"_ she screamed as an orgasm ripped through her body, but he didn't let her grow lax and tightened his grip on her hips, moving her body with the strength of his arms.

He was _magnificent_.

She let go of his shoulders and stretched to grip the edge of the table, presenting her torso and biting her lip shyly even as his cock pistoned in and out of her cunt, the wet sucking sounds loud around them. "Would you let us stay tonight, Your Majesty?"

He smiled, satisfied. Then he stood and turned her on her side on the table, raising one leg over his shoulder, and fucked her some more.

Lyral realized the King had angled her to face the bed, and she met Drienne and the Lady's eyes as she cried her pleasure, knowing they could clearly see her spread cunt and the long pumping cock between her wide open legs. The thought triggered her climax and she keened, high and loud, her channel squeezing tight around the hard flesh inside her. Vaguely she heard King Wrynn grunt and then felt the ticking pulse deep as he emptied his balls.

After some moments he pulled out and dropped her leg. Lyral lay panting on the table, staring mindlessly at the Lady's slyly amused face, feeling nothing but the occasional aftershock of her orgasm… and the seed leaking thickly from between her legs.

Kindly the King brushed sweat soaked hair from her cheek and bent to kiss it, chaste. "Of course you two may stay, pet. You only had to ask."

Then he walked to the bath. "Unfortunately I have business to attend to," he said over his shoulder. "Amuse yourselves as you see fit, I shall join you again later."

XXX

Lyral thought that it would be awkward and stilted now that their lusts were satisfied for the moment, but it strangely wasn't.

When King Wrynn left them, she and Drienne were flicking water at each other in the bath. They had watched his Lady assist him into his armor, as she expertly secured and fastened the heavy, mythical metal to his body. They watched as the couple spoke quietly, their words meant only for their ears. Lyral, for the first time, was struck by the confidence and authority that both of them so casually and easily held, and how well one's energies complemented the other's. She wondered where this human woman acquired the poise to stand on equal footing to a king.

It might have been her body Varian Wrynn had just fucked, but it was clear that _she_ was his Lady.

Now Lyral sighed in gastronomical satisfaction as she licked her fingers from the sticky residue of their lunch. The three of them had not bothered to dress and instead sat naked around the table, eating and sometimes exchanging playful kisses. If she thought that they—two adventurer Blood Elves and one human noblewoman—would have nothing to talk about, she was mistaken. Somehow the Lady managed to easily steer the conversation to non-contentious topics such as Elvish and Human fashion, the general boorishness of most creatures of the male persuasion, and the weather.

Lyral never thought she'd ever had such an animated discussion about the weather before. But she and Drienne did have to admit that the winds in Azeroth had been behaving oddly lately, the air growing cool and wet in lands previously hot and dry, and vice versa.

Then the Lady—whose name did not fit her so Lyral paid it no mind—suggested they dress for the night, and suddenly Lyral remembered that soon it will be time for more sex.

She and Drienne grinned at each other.

"What do you have in mind?" Drienne asked.

XXX

Sylvanas observed the two sisters with much less derision than she normally would, given that they were currently giggling like a pair of girls over a few silly bits of lace and silk. One would think they'd never had occasion to dress up before.

Then again, they were soldiers and adventurers, not useless Silvermoon nobles, and likely spent much of the last four years living off their packs and sleeping in flea-ridden tents.

The equipment stowed neatly in a pile at the corner of the room spoke of battles hard-fought and won; she spied more than a few epic items from the Citadel proper. It was certainly possible that they were part of one of the small groups she lead through the Icecrown dungeons, but she never bothered to pay them much heed insofar as they provided her a convenient living—or undead—bulwark against Arthas' minions.

In any case these well traveled Blood Elves were able to provide her with one more piece of useful information to the mystery surrounding the attacks against Wrynn, and Sylvanas did not have to resort to bringing more people in her confidence or approaching any of the breathing races of the Horde either. That they have also proven to be more than adequately skilled in coitus was a pleasant bonus.

However Sylvanas was less pleased by the fact that she now strongly suspected that the conspiracy in Stormwind was only a small point in a plot that is significantly larger and more dangerous than she thought—for both the Alliance and the Horde.

That was certainly inconvenient. She'd hoped to have more time to rebuild her ranks after the purge before another war came blundering at her door.

"What do you think of this, Lady?"

Sylvanas turned her attention back to the matter at hand, which was preparing for tonight's games.

Drienne wore a black garter belt and matching stockings, and nothing else.

"It certainly gets your point across," Lyral remarked, naked and tying her hair into pigtails with white ribbons.

"So says the grown Elf who plans on putting on a pinafore," Drienne sniffed.

Lyral stuck her tongue out. "Is it my fault he likes a little age-play?"

Sylvanas put a hand on Drienne's hip before the rogue could reply, stilling her immediately. "Lyral does have a point. Are you not interested in playing ingénue?"

"No, it's not that," Drienne frowns, "it's just that…"

Lyral rolled her eyes. "What she means to say is she wants her ass fucked, especially by that cock, but she doesn't know how to tell him."

"I will strangle you in your sleep."

Sylvanas laughed. "Oh is that all?" How unusually naïve these two were. They must not have spent any time in the army. "I guarantee Wrynn would love that. Do you have a plug?"

Drienne blinked. "Yes, in my pack."

"If you can hold it inside you until he gets back, it should let him know you prefer your ass played with and also shorten the amount of time he needs to prepare you." While Drienne went to her pack she approached Lyral in front of the large full-length mirror. "Yes, the white will do very well for you."

"Should I wear anything underneath?"

"Something demure and frilly for your quim, I think," Sylvanas murmured, delicately touching the body part in question and feeling the tender flesh quiver under inquisitive fingers. "And the stockings of course. You are tight again." She said in approval.

Lyral smiled and squirmed, growing wet under Sylvanas' hand. "What about a corset?"

Sylvanas removed her hand and gave one of Lyral's nipples a pinch. "No, I'll put Drienne in a bustier; I want your nipples easily seen through the dress. He'll like that."

She turned to let Lyral dress and found Drienne on the bed, working a slim plug into her hole. Sylvanas went to her and took over. "Thank you," Drienne gasped, her back arching a bit. Sylvanas rubbed a soothing hand over her hip when she had the plug fully seated inside her. Drienne stood on shaky legs.

"For you, the black bustier and short ruffle skirt," Sylvanas decided, "nothing under."

And now that the two sisters were given their instructions, Sylvanas turned her attention to her own toilette. Tonight, she felt like wearing red.

XXX

Note: well, sorry for the… months long delay folks. As an apology I made this one really porny lol. I hope you guys (and gals) enjoy the update. I'll try to get the next one out soonish… I hope.

Thank you to all the reviewers. You guys guilted me into not letting this story die lol.


	8. Chapter 8

Note: Ahahahaha... this chapter is dedicated to Skymia, whose recent avalanche of reviews finally pushed me off my ass to finish writing this chapter.

X

Tyr's Hand

Eastern Plaguelands

Contested Territory

Nathanos Blightcaller surveyed the bustling humans from his hidden perch on the Scarlet Basilica's highest steeple. The Scarlet Crusade – or Onslaught, or whatever it is the fools are calling themselves now – had seen their numbers severely culled during the rise and fall of the Lich King, but he was not surprised at their continued industry: mindless cattle are always diligent, in their own way.

The pathetic creatures will blindly follow their so-called leaders and holy cause until, to follow the analogy, they are led to the slaughter.

But his Queen was right: there is something here that feels… unusual. Nathanos carefully breathed in air he didn't need; there, in the cool breeze tainted by death and decay, he could smell it –

Nathanos stilled. Someone has noticed him.

He shrank further into the shadows thrown by the setting sun, using the dark to hide presence. Beyond the Basilica, on the ground, one human figure stood silently looking in his direction. Nathanos recognized the man: Saidan Dathrohan, one of the last high ranking knights of the organization.

_Interesting._

X

Stormwind Castle

Stormwind

Alliance Territory

"Anticipate your target's movements," Sylvanas said, instructing Wrynn's son on how to hit a moving target. The child had not hit his mark once in almost a full half-hour, but Sylvanas found herself oddly complacent. It was impressive what one pleasurable night spent in orgy could do for one's patience.

"I'm trying to!" Andy blew out a breath, frustrated as another of his volleys failed to hit the gnomish apparatus darting to and fro the courtyard, its little mechanical arms waving a target. "Sorry," he said, sheepish, at Sylvanas' raised brow.

"No; you are guessing, there is a difference," she calmly informed him. "Watch: it moves in stops and starts, and will change direction once every seven to ten steps" – the little robot obligingly did so – "the speed of your bow should tell you that you must aim one step ahead of it." She watched him frown in concentration, his eyes sharp on the target. "Again, Andy."

The prince took a breath and in the next released three consecutive arrows. The robot fell over, three shafts sticking out of the bullseye.

Andy turned to Sylvanas, beaming. "Acceptable," was all she said.

Applause from above had them look up. Wrynn stood in the balcony attached to his study, watching them with such a soft, fond look in his eyes that Sylvanas felt vaguely offended. "Father!" his son called out excitedly. "Did you see?"

"Indeed I did. You've improved much, Andy." Then he said, "I just received a missive that the delegation from the Kirin Tor will be arriving today instead of tomorrow. I would very much like it if the two of you would be there to greet them with me."

"Will Uncle Rhonin be there?" Andy asked.

"I believe so," was the reply. The child whooped happily before grabbing Sylvanas' hand and dragging her back to the keep.

Scarcely an hour later Sylvanas stood – freshly coiffed and perfumed – in the throne room beside Wrynn and Andy waiting for their honored guests, much to the visible chagrin of various nobles and courtiers.

Andy squinted at a parchment he held. "Uncle Rhonin's handwriting is so awful. Half the words are blotted and the other half illegible! How were you able to read this Father?"

"I wasn't," Wrynn said in a dry voice, "but I divined enough to understand that he plans on arriving today at noon. Though I suppose it's equally likely that he means to pay me a boon."

Andy's mouth gaped open. "A joke! That was a joke!" His high, shocked voice carried throughout the chamber and attracted the attention of others also waiting for the delegation.

And it was then, while Wrynn laughed at his son's slack jawed look and Sylvanas mentally assessed her army's current numbers – inadequate – behind a placid face, that the Kirin Tor's portal from Dalaran opened before them.

And her sister stepped out.

Damnation.

x  
x

Vereesa Windrunner had, in her long and oft-colorful life, experienced a great number of unexpected events – her marriage to a hot-headed, ginger haired human mage not being the least of them – but nothing could have ever prepared her for entering Stormwind Castle to find her older sister's soul staring at her from the eyes of a human woman, standing beside Varian Wrynn like his royal bloody bride.

Fortunately quick thinking had been one of the virtues stridently instilled into the Windrunner children from a very early age, and it took less than a blink for her to decide on a course of action: she tripped her husband as he crossed the portal.

In the commotion that followed – due in large part to her sons' easily excitable natures and the simple joy they always took in laughing at their father – she was able to give Rhonin this clear message:

"Watch your step, my dear," Vereesa murmured sweetly as she helped him up, "do try not to gracelessly stumble about like you do at home."

Rhonin had barely begun to sputter his indignation before he noticed Sylvanas and immediately understood. He laughed instead, and cuffed Giramar on the head to make him quit sniggering. "Apologies for my less than impressive entrance, Wrynn! I don't think I've quite shaken off last night's drink. Algalon was defeated last night – "

"And my husband decided to carouse with the heroes who brought him down," Vereesa finished with a smile. "It is good to see you again, Wrynn, and you Anduin. You are both looking very well."

"Vereesa, Rhonin, Giramar and Galadin. It has been too long since I have had the pleasure of hosting your family." Wrynn stepped forward with an expression of slight amusement that Vereesa had not seen in a very long time indeed. "Welcome to Stormwind."

And as the necessary diplomatic forms were met, as her family was introduced to Lady Emma Grey and Rhonin's appalling handwriting blamed for the court not expecting her and her sons to be part of the party from Dalaran, Vereesa caught her sister's eye and smiled.

x

x

Sylvanas considered Vereesa over the rim of her teacup. The two sisters sat alone in the receiving room attached to her bedchamber and had exchanged nothing but vague pleasantries for the last few minutes while they waited for Vereesa's powerful yet subtle privacy spell to settle.

Sylvanas had almost dropped her possession the moment she realized who it was that came through the portal – there was no hiding from blood family, after all (though she had not expected Rhonin to also be able to see through her) – but Vereesa's actions forestalled such a hasty move and she decided to see where exactly her younger sister would take this. With nothing but a glance to affirm an agreement to speak privately, they quickly and effortlessly took charge of the Kirin Tor's reception in court and soon managed to have a light lunch served and eaten, Wrynn and Rhonin sequestered with the delegates, rooms prepared for the larger than expected party, and the children shooed to the archery field to play.

"Mother would be quite proud, you know," Vereesa finally said, amusement quirking her lips, "to know that her lessons in deportment and diplomacy weren't wasted. I don't think I've ever seen court procedures move so smoothly and so fast."

"I do not remember her."

"I see," Vereesa said, not smiling now. "I had not realized that you'd lost your memories, though in hindsight it should be expected."

"I have not lost them – but most of my living years are nothing more substantial than a shadow of a dream. I do not need them; remembering serves me no purpose." Vereesa's eyes grew bright. "Do you pity me, sister?" Sylvanas was amused.

"No. _Yes._" Vereesa put down her cup with a clatter. "Oh I don't know. Truthfully at this moment I am only so very happy that you still consider me your sister." She bent her head and cried.

Sylvanas sipped her tea and politely looked away as Vereesa composed herself.

"I thought I had lost you too, Sylvie."

Sylvanas raised a brow, both at the sentiment and the moniker. "You do not have me now," she said baldly. "I am not Sylvanas Windrunner, not as you remember her; I have not been her for a very long time. I acknowledge our connection but do not delude yourself into thinking that holds any meaning to me and my loyalties, now."

Vereesa only laughed affectionately at these words. Marriage and motherhood must have made her soft headed, what a poor waste of a ranger.

"Here I sit exchanging civil words with you and neither of us are bleeding nor dead – relatively speaking," she said, smiling. "You've made me happy beyond measure as soon as you served me tea. I don't care one fig about what has brought you to me, like this, only that it has done so."

"You don't? You are a fool, then."

Vereesa shrugged. "The Kirin Tor is a neutral faction; what business you have here will remain between the Horde and the Alliance. As long as your plans do not infringe upon the province of the Kirin Tor or threaten the safety of my family, my husband and I will not interfere."

"And you will guarantee this?" Sylvanas asked, surprised but pleased nonetheless.

"Yes."

"Your sentiment blinds you."

"Perhaps." Vereesa grinned, blithely waving away all logic and good sense. "But I am betting on a happy ending," she murmured, "we are certainly owed one."

Sylvanas ignored the naïve mutterings of a confused mind and mentally readjusted her plans to include this new variable. She wondered how far Vereesa's affection for the memory of a beloved sister will take her. Less than an ally, but more than an enemy or passive entity – Sylvanas felt there was definite potential here, though for what she was not yet certain.

"What is it like," Vereesa asked, bringing Sylvanas back to the conversation, "playing queen consort to King Wrynn?" There was a strange teasing lilt in her voice that Sylvanas did not like.

"Satisfying."

Vereesa hummed and picked up her teacup again, doing a very poor job of hiding a sly smile. In the dark recesses of her mind, Sylvanas began to truly remember what it felt like to have a younger sibling. It felt like annoyance.

"Do not look so sour, dearest," Vereesa said, "I am very pleased you find your current position agreeable – "

"Do you think I care for your approbation?" Sylvanas interrupted, speaking over her sister.

" – considering how belligerent you were all those years ago when the human princes came to court you."

Sylvanas blinked. "What?"

"Do you not remember?" Vereesa widened her eyes in false innocence. If Sylvanas had her bow she would have shot her. "It was shortly after the Second War while Lordaeron, though severely damaged, still stood. King Terenas was wary of our – the high elves' – cooling support of the Alliance, and so brought his son and the displaced king of Stormwind to Quel'Thalas." She brushed back a lock of hair. "Supposedly it was a simple diplomatic tour, but _everyone _knew Terenas sought to throw his handsome young charges at the High Elven court and see if a stronger connection would be possible between the two kingdoms."

"Through marriage," Sylvanas murmured. The thin thread of disquiet she'd felt two nights ago strengthened.

"Oh yes! It was all the ladies could talk about. Many of the lesser families were quite interested in having a daughter rise to be Queen of Lordaeron – that it would be of a struggling human kingdom was no great matter – but of course Terenas had his eye on our family, with its one very eligible, very heroic and accomplished, daughter. He wanted you for his son, but…" She smiled. "Do you truly not remember, sister? Young Varian Wrynn pursued you quite, quite ardently that entire summer."

And later that night as Sylvanas lay, trembling and post-coital, across Wrynn's chest, she listened to his slowly calming heart… and remembered.

XX

LOL. Sorry no pr0n in this chapter, even though the lead up in the last chapter _looked_ like there would lots of sexy bits here. I'll make it up with the next one.


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